
/.•^•.\ /.■•mkr\ Am.-\ 













* ■*o 






■: j?'^ ' 



/.>^%\. .<-^;;:A. ./y>;^.v 






* '^oV* . 



^^^ 



''o •" o^ .♦• <^ ••• -y .. •*• *iV''\,* . 















*^ %. 













r;\/.-- 






^V^^^V <*.*'••*•%«''*' V*^^^> 














*->" ; 






L<^ 



\\ 



% 









h 



« < 




Vave3jp^j c^Tittx e 



^uJ'r^) y<-^ 




SONGS AND BALLADS. 



BY 



SIDNEY DYER. 




V c rrv 



•^il vvArrV- 



NEW YORK: 
SHELDON, BLAKEMAN AND COMPANY. 

INDIANAPOLIS: STEARNS AND SPICER. 
1857. 



b*' 



f^.'^ 



n1> 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1856, by 

SHELDON, BLAKEMAN & COBIPANY, 

In- the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the District of New York. 



UXaOTTPEI) BY THE AMERICAN STEREOTYPE COMPANY, 
PH(ENIX BUILDING, BOSTON. 



\Matxm. 



Weut ^eatitt, 1)sst tif)ou lofictf— © filfssful fteling! — 

ST^c music nf ti)e ijjart? 
?^ast iBalfttU fijj jTait^. to^cn sfiatJo&os Socre conKalittg 

Wi^ate'tt touXa plopc impart? 
If t$ou fjast feno&jn alternate fog unts sorroto 

SISaiti&in t$a fiosom reign, 
anU for t^e fiurlieneti fjeart fcouKr tope to fiorrofio 

SI sineet surcease of pain, 
Ef)en come, anti, iu^ik ^Life's earcs antr fogs are fleeting, 

3Let 55ons tTjg spirits free; 
%nts fe^at toe sing, toit^ toarm anU frienUla greeting, 

2 tretiicate to ii)tt I 



(iii) 



CONTENTS 



PAGE 

Prelude 1 

That single Gray Hair 11 

All Alone 13 

Ah, yes, I Remember 15 

A Home in the West 17 

Washington's Tomb, the Shrine of the World 20 

I would not have thee Young again 22 

The old Easy-chau' by the Fire 24 

0, tell me not that Early Love 26 

O, could I now those Years recall 28 

The Woodman's Response 30 

Full Many Years ago 32 

A Home on the Mountain * 34 

• 

Spare the Old Homestead : 36 

Grave of Ben Bolt. 39 

They are all gone 41 

The Old Stage-coach 43 

Brighter Hours shall come 46 

We parted in Youth 48 

Coming Home 50 

I love the Old Songs 52 

Ask me not to say Farewell 54 

1# (V) 



vi CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

Remember, remember ! 56 

The Sigh I breathe alone 58 

My Mother's Smile 60 

Last Meeting with the Old Folks at Home 62 

Annie Lee 64 

O, chide me not 66 

Moonlight on the Sea 68 

O, should a Light Word part us ? 70 

The Prairie Hunters 72 

Nelly Gordon 75 

The Songs my Mother sung 77 

In Dreams I love thee still 79 

Come not when the Heart is sad 81 

Peace, be still 83 

The Heart can trust no more ." 85 

Ne'er think I can deceive thee 86 

Alice in heaven 88 

I ne'er can love thee less 91 

Serenade 93 

Song shall Guard oar Liberty 95 

I ne'er forget .' 97 

Minnie Myi-tle 99 

We two have been like Brothers 100 

We two have been like Sisters 102 

My Father is here 104 

Lilla Clare 105 

Ah, is it sweet to tell me ? 107 

Return, return to me 109 

The Light of Sadness Ill 



CONTENTS. Vii 

PAGE 

Little BHnd Bell 112 

Dearest Old Mansion 1 14 

Better Late than Never 117 

Hit the Nail on the Head 119 

When Joy's full Tide is rushing 121 

O, say not Friendship is a Name 123 

The Angels told me so 125 

Memory's Leaves 127 

Home is where the Heart is 129 

The Horse and the Kailroad 131 

In the Light of thine Eyes 133 

My gentle Lizzie 's far away 135 

Silent Love 137 

Our Mother's Grave 139 

Mmnie Gray 141 

In Bliss we shall meet thee 143 

O, no, I am not Blind 145 

The Golden Kule 147 

Mother, dear, Good-by 149 

Love's Interpreters 151 

Waiting for thee at Home 153 

The Mother's last Greeting ^ 155 

O what do the Birds say ? 157 

There is a Word which others speak 159 

Do not tarry long 161 

The Eorest Burial 163 

Little Eva's Vision 165 

The Echoing Horn 168 

Ear away, far away 1 ''^ 



\aii CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

The Pride of my Heart 172 

The Swing 174 

The Crooked-necked Gourd 176 

The Indian's Song of Peace 178 

The Cottage of Daisy Dell 180 

Be always Happy 184 

Safe at Home 186 

The Happiest Place is Home 188 

Each Sigh the Heart will treasure 190 

I thought of thee once 192 

Angel Willie 193 

Child's Prayer 195 

Farewell to the Home of my Youth 197 

Welcome, sweet May ! 199 

Those Good Old Days 202 

One Little Word 204 

Awake, Gentle Lady 206 

'T is Vain to Hope 208 

The Fu'st Rose of Spring-time 210 

Happy Dreams of Home 212 

Eeturn of the Robin 214 

Evening Echoes • 216 

Kat/s Response to the Katydid 218 

Jacob gets the Mitten 221 

The Little Red Shoes 223 

Blessed are they that Mourn 225 

Little Rosy Cheeks 227 

The Family Altar 229 

The Bride's Sacrifice 231 



CONTENTS, JX 

PAGE 

O, thou Dark Reservoir 233 

Little Katy's Cry 236 

The StrawbeiTy Girl 238 

We '11 keep the Bible Free 240 

Dedication Hymn 243 

Dedication Hymn 246 

I knew you would miss me 249 

Fireside Jewels 252 

Those By-gone Days 254 

Ruth (a Cantata) , 257 

Suspense 268 

Thanatos 270 

My Father's Bible 275 

The Fay of the Falls 279 

The Deaf and Dumb 282 

I lore the Wind 285 

If you Avill only think so 287 

To an Infant Boy , 290 

Hymn for New Year's Festival 292 

Song about Singers 294 



PREFACE. 



Music and Poetry were coeval and co-dependenu 
Neither alone could furnish man with a medium by which 
to express his emotions, when chastened by afflictions, or 
excited by love and joy. Words could express ideas, but 
this only satisfied the head; the heart knew not the lan- 
guage, and the soul of man walked in burdened silence, 
until it caught the dialect of angels, as they sang around 
the throne of Heaven. But the staid and philosophic 
mind was equally at a loss to see the fitness of mere 
sounds. To compromise the matter, the heart gave its 
language of passion to the mind, and the mind its dialect 
of reason to the soul, and, united, they gave the first Ijrric 
to the world, which has never ceased to bless them for the 
inestimable gift. 

The lyric is a necessity of our being ; the epic — or poem 
merely to be read — a luxury or an ornament. We must 
have the song, but could get along very well without 
" heroics " or " blank verse." 

The song is not a mere sentimental impulse — a sickly 
fancy growing out of a morbid bosom ; it is the language 

(XI) 



XII PREFACE. 

of experience, taught by the great lessons of life, making 
its way from the heart to the lips, to instruct others how to 
battle with its cares, and conquer its temptations. It is a 
rich gift, sent into the jarring world to soften its rough 
and dreary aspects, and soothe the way-worn pilgrim — a 
relic of the Paradise lost, and a foretaste of that which is 
to come. 

A song differs from other poetical compositions in many 
essential features : from the epic, in not admitting the flights 
of uncurbe^imagination and ornate details ; and from the 
ballad and other short poems, in rejecting all descriptive 
exhibitions. It is unique; its two gi^eat elements being 
unity and suggestiveness — a suggestiveness, not so much 
by what it reveals, as an indefiniteness which leaves the 
awakened sensibilities to an awe, more of what may be 
implied, than of what is really expressed — as the Old 
Artists used to sketch the shadowy outlines of " goblins 
and chimeras dire" in the backgi'ound of their pictures, 
and leave the effect to the imagination of the beholder. 

By the unity of a song, is meant one emotion, so to 
speak, crystalized into its perfect form of sentiment. The 
philosophy of this unity is seen in the very elements of 
the lyric — it is the language of passion. We may not 
understand the utterances of every tongue, but we are 
never asking for an interpreter to reveal the breathings of 
the heart — it has but one voice, which all understand, 
wherever they may have a " local habitation and a name." 

The use of the chorus and refrain grow out of this 
quality of the song. To supply the necessary extent of 
measure to admit of singing, and to embody the emotion 



PREFACE. XIII 

awakened, the accessories of expansion are resorted to, 
and necessarily withdraw the mind from the unity of the 
song; but the heart seems to urge the progress over these 
parts, waiting impatiently until the proper measure is 
reached, when it launches out in all the rapture and 
enthusiasm of its restrained impulses, in repeating, with a 
delicious lingering, the theme of the song. This is the 
reason why the refrain or chorus of a song is sung with . 
more delight and excitement than any other part. 

The melody of the lyric is also peculiar. It is not suiR- 
cient in the song that the measure should scan well; its 
very. reading must be suggestive of music. It must sing 
itself, and with as much naturalness as the trill of the 
spring robin, or the gushing melody of the morning lark. 
That careful searching after euphonious words, so conspic- 
uous in some of our writers, is wholly inadmissible ; the 
simpler the language the better : even metaphor must be 
sparingly used, and when admitted, must be natural and un- 
involved, or the effect is spoiled. "What more simple than 
" The Harp that once through Tara's halls," " The last Rose 
of Summer," " Woodman, Spare that Tree," and « Mary in 
Heaven ? " The heart under deep feeling or intense pas- 
sion is never grandiloquent nor metaphorical. When 
merely sentimental, as the sighing lover before the window 
of his beloved Angelina, one may talk of " stars " and 
" starry eyes ;" but an earnest and genuine lover was never 
guilty of a moonlight serenade. 

The song-writer produces his effect, not by a deluge of 
sonorous w^ords, but by a kind of mental crystalization, 
making each word reflect, on every side, the rays of pure 

2 



XIV PREFACE. 

sentiment and deep emotion, and withal, possessing so 
perfect a transparency, that the whole is gathered up by a 
single glance. There is seemingly no art where the greatest 
art is exhibited; — it is the j)ower of intensely idealizing 
emotions, and yet with so much spontaneity and natural- 
ness that we are persuaded the reality has ever been 
familiar to us. The song has directness, uniqueness, 
heartiness, suggestiveness, and unity, so blended, fused, 
and idealized, that it seems a simple element possessed 
of all these forces. 

With this brief sketch of song-literature, a few remarks 
of a more personal character must conclude tliis lengthened 
prefiice. 

The reader will judge how nearly the songs in this vol- 
ume approximate the standard given. It is proper to add, 
that many of them were Avritten for music publishers, 
who furnished the titles and form of the versification, 
leaving the author no choice in the matter. Owing to 
this circumstance, one or two themes are unusually promi- 
nent, and have somewhat the appearance of triteness. 
Several are responses to well-known songs ; and as the 
" order " jequired the preservation of the same measure, 
these songs may have an appearance of imitation ; but the 
author can truly say, that he is unconscious of having, in 
any instance, made any one his model, or copied aught of 
thought or expression from others, w^ithout giving due 
credit, by the usual marks. 

If tliis was an ordinary volume of verses, it might lose 
itself in the multitudes that have preceded it, and thus 
escape a very trying ordeal ; but, as a volume of original 



PREFACE. XV 

songs, it will stand in direct contrast with the two or three 
which have been issued before it, the principal one of 
which is by one of the best song-writers in the language. 
But as most of the songs here collected have met with 
much favor, in connection Avith the melodies with Avliich 
they have been published, it is hoped that some degree, at 
least, of the same approbation will be given them in this 
form. 

A good song is a public benefit ; and, trusting that some 
in this volume will receive this high meed of praise, they 
are sent forth as candidates for public approval. 

It should be added, that most of the lyrics in this col- 
lection have been disposed of to music publishers, who 
have the exclusive right to use them for musical purposes. 

s. D. 



PRELUDE. 



I. 
When first the " morning stars " adorned the azure sky, 

Their new-born radiance o'er Creation flinging, 
They joined the " Sons of God " in pealing high 

A song of praise, and Heaven and Earth were singing. 

II. 

The Ocean gathered to its mountain bars, 

And hill and valley, lapped in bHss and beauty. 

Took their first lesson from the vocal stars, 

And learned to sing, for song is Love's first duty. 

III. 
In bloommg Eden, through each fragrant grove. 

With cadence soft, sweet melodies were flowing; 
And every whisper breathed of guileless love. 
For only love can cause a pure heart's glowing. 
1 (I) 



^5 PRELUDE. 

IV. 

When in the soul of man awoke desire, 

The heart a language sought, to speak its pleasure ; 
And soft within, as from a hidden lyre, 

Sweet melody broke forth in joyous measure. 

Y. 

Lapped in elysian airs, man had his birth. 

And song expressed his soul's first warm emotion ; 

And evermore 't will be in Heaven and Earth 
The dialect of love and pure devotion. 

VI. 

Thus Love and Song are Heaven-begotten twins, 
The brightest far of all its fair revealing ; 

When either in the soul its reign begins, 
The other welcome finds, a kindred feeling. 

VII. 

Li that sad hour, when Adam plucked and ate 

The fruit he might not touch by Heaven's decreeing, 

Then Earth first knew the bitterness of hate. 
And Love returned to God a spotless being. 



PRELUDE. 
VIII. 

But He, whose mercy brooks no long delay, 
Back to the world the beauteous one returning. 

Bade her again resume her heavenly sway, 
A sacred flame in every pure heart burning. 

IX. 

And Earth is blest to hear the voice of song, 
In dulcet strains, a tide of bliss outpouring, 

As joy retunes to praise each silent tongue. 
To vie with seraphim in their adoring. 

X. 

O, priceless boon ! how oft the stricken heart 
Resorts to thee, when sad and all forsaken ! 

And thou hast still a balm, which can impart 
A thrill of joy, and hope anew awaken * 



XI. 

And when exquisite raptures fill the soul, 
And every pulse with new delight is waking, 

Too deep for words, it spurns their dull control, 

We burst in song, and save the heart from breaking. 



4 PRELUDE. 

XII. 

There is a rapture in its slightest tone, 

Which words ne'er give, however fitly spoken 

It takes the hai-^), which long has hung alone. 

And wakes to joy the strings that grief had broken. 

XIII. 

No other voice can tell the power of love, 
Or heal the soul, when sad and spirit-riven ; 

No other pay the homage due above. 

Or make the Eai'th so near a type of Heaven. 

XIV. 

Oh, ne'er profane a theme so fraught with good ; 

Nor deem they trifle, who the lyre had taken, 
And, free from grosser cares, its chords have wooed, 

To cheer the sad, and Love's pure flame awaken. 

XV. 

But deem that bosom cold, that ne'er is moved. 

When song its charm round other hearts is throwing; 

And colder still, the soul that ne'er has loved. 
Nor felt the raptures of its early glowing. 



PRELUDE. 
XVI. 

Love is the aroma of heavenly flowers, 
And song the echo of angelic gladness ; 

These give to life the bhss of honeyed hours, 
And sanctify our very days of sadness. 

XVII. 

The simple lays, that wake to tears when sung. 
Like chords of feeling from the music taken. 

Are in the bosom of the singer strung, 

Which every throbbing heart-pulse will awaken. 

XVIII. 

Whoe'er can sing, will find the blest employ 
Full oft from grosser ties the soul has riven, 

Till, quite transfigured on the mount of joy. 

We hold sweet converse with the choir of Heaven. 



XIX. 

Then, chide me not that I, delighted, sung. 
Ere I could shape my song to fitting measure ; 

That, all untaught, the rustic shell I strung, 
For song has been to me a priceless treasure. 

1* 



6 PRELUDE. 

XX. 

I sung because there was a joy in song, 

Since love inspired my first rude numbers flowing; 

And now I 've tried the world full well and long, 
I love to sing, for passion still is glowing. 

XXI. 

Sweet song enshi-ines the bliss of other days. 
And brightens all the promise of to-morrow ; 

It brings a joy that every loss repays. 

And soothes the pain that swells the heart of sorrow. 



XXII. 

"While song can thus new energy impai't, 

And plume the soul with more than angel pinions, 

1 'U sing till every shadow leaves the heart, 

And woo celestial bliss from Heaven's dominions. 



XXIII. 

'T is song enriches every heart and clime. 

And breathes the joys of all life's varied stations ; 

In harmony. Eternity and Time 

Live on its chords in holy aspirations. 



PRELUDE. 
XXIV. 

A world that ne'er lias known the power of song, 
Where Love is ne'er the raptured bosom swelling, 

May well to demons dark and dread belong. 
And be to them congenial place of dwelling. 

XXV. 

But they who yield to music's sweet control, 

To deeds of noblest charity are given ; 
And they shall learn, when perfect made in soul, 

That Love and Song are other names for Heaven! 

XXVI. 

For Nature I have felt a love intense — 

Its birds and flowers, green fields and forests waving ; 
Each humble object, to my quickened sense. 

Brings some new joy to fill the spirit's craving. 

XXVII. 

Ere mingling in the world's dark battle-strife 
Had petrified the heart, with deepest feeling. 

It was bestowed on him who gave it life. 
With holy reverence, at His altar kneeling. 



o PRELUDE. 

XXVIII. 

The love of God shall be my highest theme, 
His praise my constant joy, a strain unending ; 

And, where the rays of fond affection gleam. 

There shall my song be heard with others blendmg. 

XXIX. 

I may not equal, in my highest strain, 

The flight of other bards, when humblest soarmg; 
Nor hear from other lips these songs again. 

When at the shrine of faith and love adoring. 

XXX. 

Still I must sing, though none may hear to praise. 
For song revises my spirit in dejection ; 

And, when the light of joy around me plays. 
Sure I must sing, for song is joy's reflection ! 



SONGS. 



THAT SINGLE GRAY HAIR. 



FOR MUSIC. 
I. 



Ah, well I remember how curly and golden 

And flowing, the locks which I treasured of old. 
As o'er thy fair brow they were daintily folden, 

Now mild as the amber, now brilliant as gold ; 
But ne'er did my heart ever throb with devotion. 

Nor deem such a world of affection was there, 
As now, when I see, in the glance of each motion. 

The light that reflects from a single gray hair. 

II. 
Ah, true it may be, in the sunhght of beauty, 

A shadow that tells of its early decline ; 
Oft chilling the heart that is holden by duty, 

But feeding the love that is glowing in mine. 
Then pluck not the treasure, nor seek to conceal it, 

Though faded the amber, and silvered by care ; 
And every new comer — O, quickly reveal it, — 

'T is robed like the angels— that single gi-ay hair. 

(11) 



12 THAT SINGLE GRAY HAIR. 

III. 

The hues that once played o'er thy lock's silken flowin 

Were types of the pleasures that fall to us here ; 
But changeless, and stainless, that lone one is glowing, 

As shine the " white robed " in eternity's sphere. 
Then, sigh not that time has revealed such a treasure ; 

It sits like the halo that saintly forms wear ; 
Thy soft, golden ringlets once thrilled me with pleasure, 

But sweeter the light of that single gray hau\ 

rv. 

The heart, for a moment, may shrink from revealing. 

How quickly the dawn-light of beauty can fade ; 
But oft in the shadow an angel conceahng, 

The soul, in celestial effulgence, is paid; 
For true hearts like thine, ever brighter crowns winning, 

On earth are permitted some jewels to wear; 
And here on thy brow is an early beginning — 

The first gem is set in that single gray hair. 



13 



ALL ALONE. 

Written and sent to an absent and invalid wife. Set to music by C. C. Hull, Esq, 

I. 

Alone, alone, that painful word 

Which we must speak when far apart, 
I 've breathed so often since we met, 

It seems the echo of my heart. 
I hear it when among the crowd, 

It mingles in each music-tone. 
As though all speech were but a word. 

And that one word were — all alone! 

II. 
Alone, alone, that pensive thought 

Which parting ever leaves behind, 
Has been so constant since we met, 

It seems the impress of the mind. 
It lingers in my waking hours. 

And when soft dreams are round me thrown. 
As though the mind Avere but a thought. 

And that one thought were — all alone! 
2 



14 ALL ALONE. 

III. 

Alone, alone, that weary state 

Which absence ever gives control, 
I Ve felt so deeply since we met, 

It seems the being of my soul. 
O, then, come back; for, till we meet, 

Each feeling, thought, and uttered tone 
Can be but part of what I am. 

And, without thee, I 'm — all alone! 



15 



AH! YES, I REMEMBER. 

[This song was written and dedicated to the memory of a precious 
little daughter, who slumbers in the cemetery af " Cave Hill," near 
Louisville, Ky. The " stone" that covers her ashes bears the fol- 
lowing inscription : 

" SWEET ALICE : 
" Our Joy for three years and two months; became a Memory July 2d, 1850." 

These words have been set to music by Henri Vasouver, James N. 
Beck, C. J. M. Bradley, and others, and are known to the " Music 
Trade" as Ben Bolt's Reply.] 



I. 

Ah! yes, I remember that name with delight, 

Sweet Alice, so cherished and dear ; 
I seek her lone grave, in the pale hour of night, 

And moisten the turf with a tear. 
And there, when the heart is o'erburdened with woes, 

I wander and muse all alone, 
And long for the time when my head shall repose 

Where sweet Alice lies under the stone. 



16 ah! yes, I REMEMBER. 

II. 

I roam through the wood, where so joyous we strayed, 

And recHne on the green sunny hill ; 
All thmgs are as bright in that beautiful glade, 

But my heart is all lonely and chill ! 
For the hand that so fondly I then pressed m mine, 

And the Hps that were melting with love, 
Are cold in the grave, and I 'm left to repine, 

Till I meet with sweet Alice above ! 

III. 
Ah ! well I remember the school-house and brook, 

"And the master so kind and so true," 
The wild-blooming flowers m the cool, shady nook, 

So fragrant with incense and dew ; 
But I weep not for these, though so dear to my heart, 

Nor the. friends that have left us alone ; 
The bosom will heave and the tear-drops will start. 

For sweet Alice lies under the stone. 



17 



A HOME IN THE WEST. 

FOR MUSIC. 
I. 

The land of the East is the land of my birth — 

There Science has lavished her bountiful store ; 
Her homes are brightest and truest of earth, 

For peace, like an angel, guards every man's door ; 
But Westward, the land of savanna and stream, 

Where Nature surpasses the riches of Art, 
And freedom and plenty are all that we dream, 

I 've built me a home and a shrine for the heart ; 
Contented and happy, with plenty and rest. 
The earth has no spot like my home in the West. 

II. 
The land of the East is the land of the great, 

And glowing the page of her annals of yore ; 
Her sons are the heroes of battle and state. 

Whose crowns are the brightest that mortals e'er wore ; 
2* 



18 A HOME IN THE WEST. 

But here, where their children have found them a home, 
The type of true manhood enlarges each day, 

And, though they are first in our national dome. 

Soon the Stars of the West will shine brighter than they; 

Undaunted and honest, a patriot breast 

Is found in each humble new home in the West. 

III. 
A home in the East is the purchase of gold. 

And Nature is frugal in blessing its toil ; 
There homestead and awes are carelessly sold. 

Till the heart is ne'er bound by a tie to the soil. 
But a home in the West is the bounty of God ; 

His seal is the plenty that smiles at the door ; 
And dear is the spot where we break the first sod. 

And Nature invitingly welcomes the poor ; 
Contented and happy, with plenty and rest, 
A home for the poor is a home in the West. 

We boast no refinement, like that of the East, 
Oft cold as the snow on its bleak granite hills ; 

Though coarse be the fare in a Westerner's feast, 
Yet generous his heart as the soil that he tills. 



A HOME IN THE WEST. 19 

Hurrah ! for the land of savanna and stream, 
Wliere bounties are richest and come at our call ; 

'T is the home .of our longing, in life's brightest dream, 
"Where plenty is smiling, and freedom for all : 

Then, let us be happy, with plenty and rest, 

For the earth has no spot like a home in the West ! 



20 



WASHINGTON'S TOMB— THE SHKINE OF 
THE WORLD. 

MUSIC BY J. A. BAKER, ESQ. 



Immortal. and sacred, untouched by decay, 

The tomb of the hero in glory appears; 
And nations their homage unceasingly pay 

To his ashes, that hallow the place of their tears. 
Though he sleeps in the grave, stiU, enraptured, they greet 

The banner of stars, which his valor unfurled, 
And hither, as pilgrims, they hasten to meet. 

And Washington's tomb is the shrine of the world ! 

II. 

The deeds of the warrior, the tongue of the sage, 

The strains of the Poet, though others may claim, 
The glory that dazzles the world's brightest page. 
Is the halo that circles our Washington's name. 



WASHINGTON'S TOMB. 21 

While a freeman shall live, his devotion will greet 
The banner of stars, which his valor unfurled; 

And hither, as pilgrims, the nations will meet. 

And Washington's tomb be the shi'ine of the world ! 

III. 

Wliile others for glory have fought and have bled, 

His heart and his fame to his country he gave ; 
And here, as the feet of the pilgrim are led. 

Each heart is enshrined in our Washington's grave ; 
And the gaze of the freeman, with rapture, will greet 

The banner of stars, which his valor unfurled. 
And the hearts of all ages, in unison meet 

At Washington's tomb — the first shrine of the world! 

IV. 

W^le sacred, immortal, his resting shall be. 

And nations, adoring, shall covet his fame. 
May the bond of our Union be lasting and free. 

And dear as the love of our Washington's name ! 
By the tomb of our hero, united we '11 greet 

The banner of stars, which his valor unfurled ; 
We '11 stand by its honor, its foemen defeat. 

And save from pollution the shrine of the world ! 



22 



I WOULD NOT HAVE THEE YOUNG AGAIN. 

MUSIC BY E. Z. WEBSTER, ESQ. 
I. 

I WOULD not have those houi's return, 

Which flushed thy cheeks with rosy youth, 
To quench the light of golden years, 

In memory linked with thee and truth. 
I know thine eyes are growing dim, 

Thy voice has lost its bird-Hke strain ; 
Yet, there 's such beauty in thine age, 

I would not have thee young again. 

II. 
Thy gentle hand is tremulous, 

Thy step become less light and free ; 
They say that thou art greatly changed. 

And so thou art, to all but me. 
Though form and face may be less fair. 

It brings to me no thought of pain ; 
Since love grows bright as beauty fades, 

I would not have thee young again. 



I WOULD NOT HAVE THEE YOUNG AGAIN. 23 

III. 

I see among thy auburn locks 

The first pale rays of silver, now ; 
A shade of care is on thy face, 

A wrinkle forming on thy brow ; 
But O, my love like ivy boughs, 

Grows greener as thy beauties wane ; 
And there 's such sweetness in thine age, 

I would not have thee young again. 



24 



THE OLD EASY CHAIE BY THE FIRE. 

FOR 3IUSIC. 
I. 

The days of my youtli have all silently sped, 

And my locks are now grown thin and gray ; 
My hopes, like a dream in the morning, have fled, 

And nothing remains but decay ; 
Yet I seem but a child, as I was long ago, 

"When I stood by the form of my sire, 
And my dear mother sung, as she rocked to and fro 

In the old easy chair by the fire. 

II. 

O, she was my guardian and guide all the day, 

And the angel who watched round my bed ; 
Her voice in a murmur of prayer died away, 

For blessings to rest on my head. 
Then I thought ne'er an angel that Heaven could know, 

Though trained in its own peerless choir, 
Could sing like my mother, who rocked to and fro 

In the old easy chair by the fire. 



THE OLD EASY CHAIR BY THE FIRE. 25 

III. 

How holy the place, as we gathered at night 

Round the altar where peace ever dwelt, 
To join in an anthem of praise, and unite 

In thanks which our hearts truly felt. 
In his sacred old seat, with his locks white as snow, 

Sat the venerable form of my sire, 
While my dear mother sung, as she rocked to and fro 

In the old easy chair by the fire. 

The cottage is gone, which my infancy knew. 

And the place is despoiled of its charms; 
My friends are all gathered beneath the old yew, 

And slumber m death's folded arms ; 
But often, with rapture, my bosom doth glow, 

As I think of my home and my sire, 
And the dearest of mothers, who sung long ago 

In the old easy chair by the fire ! 
3 



26 



O TELL ME NOT THAT EARLY LOVE. 

MUSIC BY C. C. CONVERSE, ESQ. 
I. 

O TELL me not that early love 

Can thrill the soul with deepest joy ; 
Nor bid me sigh, when time shall prove 

How soon its sweetest pleasures cloy ! 
Give me the love that grows through years, 

And clings, like ivy, round decay, 
That feeds its strength on sorrow's tears, 

When passion's heat has passed away. 

II. 
O tell me not how love beguiles. 

When bathed in floods of orient light ! 
Give me the bhss of glowing smiles. 

When youth and beauty sink in sight. 
How sweet, when age, with frosty breath. 

Shall youthful blood and passion chill, 
To feel a power that, e'en in death. 

Will feed on love's sweet ashes still ! 



O TELL ME NOT THAT EARLY LOVE. 27 

III. 

tell me not that age is cold, 

And love's emotion chills at length; 
Since, while the form is growing old, 

A pure affection gathers strength. 
Ah ! no, 't is ripened love whose glow 

Becomes more beauteous till the even. 
And gives a foretaste here below 

Of that pure bhss enjoyed in heaven ! 



28 



O, COULD I KOW THOSE YEAES RECALL! 

MUSIC BY J. A BAKEK, ESQ. 
I. 

O, COULD I now those years recall, 

When life was like a summer day, 
I would not ask, to see them all 

Again in sorrow pass away. 
Ah ! who would more than once behold 

The light of youth and hope depart, 
And feel the life-blood growing cold. 

And weep as joy forsakes the heart ? 
O, no, could I those years recall, 

When life was like a summer day, 
I woidd not ask, to see them all 

Agam in sorrow pass away. 

II. 
With joy, I turn my longing eyes 

Wliere, on the verge of coming night. 
Celestial beams glow on the skies. 

And fall with rapture on my sight ! ^ 



O, COULD I NOW THOSE YEARS RECALL. 29 

And O, my heart as liglit appears, 

And free as youth from care and pain, 
I wipe away the falling tears, 

Nor sigh for early joys again. 
O, no, could I those years recall, 

"When life was like a summer day, 
I would not ask, to see them all 

Again in sorrow pass away. 
8* 



30 



THE WOODMAN'S EESPONSE. 

MUSIC BY W. J. LANDRUM. 
I. 

I spare that aged tree, 

Then dry the startmg tear ; 
Long may it shelter thee, 

When wandering sadly here. 
Forbid that I should harm 

What can the power impart, 
The light of joy to charm, 

Like sunshine to the heart. 

• „. 

Few are the friends that prove, 

Through life's sad changes, true ; 
When trusted most, they rove. 

And leave old friends for new. 
Well may thy heart, then, cling 

To this familiar tree, 
That still abroad doth fling 

Its sheltering arms for thee. 



THE woodman's RESPONSE. 31 

III. 

When memories of the grave 

Shoot tlirough thy fevered brain, 
Come where its branches wave, 

And be a boy again ; 
Come when the bosom heaves 

For those thou canst not see, 
The murmur of its leaves 

Shall breathe their names to thee. 

IV. 

I ask no boon to spare 

To thee so dear a friend ; 
The storm it still shall dare, 

And hear its branches bend ; 
Ah ! who could rudely haf m 

What can the power impart, 
In this dark world, to charm 

The sunshine to the heart ? 



32 



FULL MANY YEARS AGO. 

MUSIC BY PKOF. H. S. SAEONI. 
I. 

The merry matin song is heard, 

The emerald plains appear, 
And, wreathed with flowers, sweet May returns, 

The gem of all the year; 
But O, to me it has a voice. 

Whose sweetness none can know. 
It whispers words which thrilled our hearts, 

Full many years ago ! 

II. 

Each bosom, filled with gladness now. 

Bids care good-by to-day. 
And every voice pours forth a song, 

To welcome rosy May ; 
But O, to me there is no light 

So bright as memory's glow ; 
For, dearest, thou art just the ^me 

As many years ago ! 



FULL MANY IfEARS AGO. 33 

III. 

'T is true, thy auburn locks then waved, 

Like sunlight, round thy brow ; 
The rose was fresher on thy cheek, 

Thiue eyes more bright than now ; 
But O, our love has known no change, 

Nor ceased in strength to grow 
Since first I pressed thee to my heart, 

Full many years ago ! 

IV. 

Our spring of life has passed away, 

The summer time is here; 
Soon autumn's sober hours will come. 

And winter, chill and drear ; 
But O, to us 't is always May, ., 

Our hearts no seasons know, 
Since first the twain were blent in one. 

Full many years ago ! 



34 



A HOME ON THE MOUNTAIN. 

FOR MUSIC. 
I. 

Let others sigh for a valley home, 

Where the brooks run murmuring by, 
I '11 build my cot on the mountain's dome, 

Where it leans to the deep-blue sky. 
I love to dwell where the eagles soar. 

And perch on its starry crown. 
The wild winds howl, and the thunders roai'. 

As the storm comes rattling down ! 
Then, sigh who will for a valley home, 

Where the brooks run murmuring by, 
I '11 build my cot on the mountain's dome. 

Where it leans to the deep-blue sky ! 

II. 

Let others pine for the vale below — 
Though a home is more genial there — 

I love the drift of the mountain snow. 
And the health of its bracing air. 



A HOME ON THE MOUNTAIN. 35 

We '11 bound away on the chamois track, 

Or mark, as the noble deer 
Leaps high in air, as our rifles crack; 

Hurrah ! for our mountain cheer ! 
Then, sigh who will for a valley home, 

Where the brooks run murmuring by, 
I '11 build my cot on the mountain's dome, 

Where it leans to the deep-blue sky ! 



36 



SPARE THE OLD HOMESTEAD. 

MUSIC BY J. P. WEBSTER, ESQ. 
I. 

O, SPARE the old homestead ! 

Nor ruthlessly part 
The ties that have bound it 

So long to my heart ; 
When wandering and weary, 

And burdened with care, 
A bright spot of sunshine 

Still beams for me there. 
Then, spare the old homestead, 

'T is dear to me yet ; 
The home of my childhood 

I ne'er can forget ! 

• n. 

O, spare the old homestead ! 

'T was there I first knew 
The love of my mother. 

Still changeless and true ; 



SPARE THE OLD HOMESTEAD. 37 

A father's, a brother's, 

A loved sister's care, — 
O, these are the memories 

That beam on me there ! 
Then, spare the old homestead, 

'T is dear to me yet ; 
The home of my childhood 

I ne'er can forget ! 

III. 
O, spare the old homestead ! 

Though moss-overgrown, 
Its halls are deserted. 

Decaying, alone ; 
Yet back to its hearth-stone 

My heart will repair, ' 
As though its warm greetings 

Still welcomed me there. 
Then, spare the old homestead, 

'Tis dear to me yet; 
The home of my childhood 

I ne'er can forget ! 



38 SPAKE THE OLD HOMESTEAD. 

IV. 

O, spare the old homestead ! 

Till that pensive hour, 
When age makes me weary, 

And life yields its power ; 
Then bear me, when fainting, 

To breathe its sweet air, 
And die 'mid the smishine 

That beams on me there ! 
Then, spare the old homestead, 

'T is dear to me yet ; 
The home of my childhood 

I ne'er c^ forget ! 



39 



GRAVE OF BEN BOLT. 

The well-known song of "Ben Bolt" is much wanting in point 
of unity. In the first stanza, the heart becomes deeply interested in 
behalf of the gentle " Sweet Alice," and is not prepared to hare 
her so summarily thrust out of view, while the attention is directed 
to inanimate objects, to keep up the emotions awakened. 

This song was written to show the eiFect of the desired unity ; and 
it is some evidence of its success, that it has, perhaps, been set to 
more melodies than any other song written in America. Among 
the composers who have used these words, the following may be 
named: Carl Cy. Schuck, H. C. Watson, I. B. Woodbury, T. H. 
Tanner, Frank Barrington, H. A. Whitney, etc. 



By the side of sweet Alice they Ve laid Ben Bolt, 

Where often he longed to repose ; 
For there he would kneel, with the early spring flowers, 

To plant o'er his darling the rose. 
His heart was as true as the star to his gaze. 

When tossed on the billows alone; 
But now it is cold, and forever at rest, 

For he calmly lies under the stone I 



40 GRAVE OF BEN BOLT. 

II. 

How often his eyes were seen brimming with tears, 

To mingle with others in grief ; 
But joy would re-kindle the light of his smile 

When pouring the balm of relief. 
At last, he has gone to the bright spirit-land, 

And, free from all sorrow and pain. 
He tastes the full raptures of angels above, 

For he meets with sweet Alice again ! 

III. 

We '11 gather the flowers from the green shady nook. 

And moss from the silent old mill, 
To strew o'er the gi-aves, where obscurely repose 

The hearts that death only could chill. 
And oft, when the heart has grown weary and sad, 

We '11 come, by the twilight, alone, 
To muse o'er the spot where, together, Ben Bolt 

And sweet Alice lie under the stone. 



41 



THEY AEE ALL GONE. 

FOR MUSIC. 
I. 

Ah ! dearest old homestead ! how painful the years 

I 've known since I left thy loved circle of yore ! 
What anguish of spirit, and hot bui^ning tears ! 

My soul has so yearned to behold thee once more ! 
Then why do I tremble, as now I retrace 

The path, in my childhood, I so loved to roam ? 
Are the dear ones alive, whom I long to embrace, 

To meet at the door-way, and welcome me home ? 
Ah ! dearest old homestead ! I 'm treading thy lawn. 

But there 's none here to greet me — the loved are all 
gone! 

II. 
Oh ! could I but rest 'neath that old roof again, 

And hear the sweet voice of a mother in prayer, 
My heart would be eased of its burden of pain ; — 

Oh, is she yet living, to welcome me there ? 

4* 



42 THEY ARE ALL GONE. 

The moonlight is cold on its moss-covered walls, 
And colder the stranger who stands at the door, 

And hope leaves the bosom, as on the ear falls, 

" No friend to its hearth-stone will welcome thee more ! * 

Ah ! dearest old homestead ! I turn from thy lawn, 

For there's none here to greet me — the loved are all 
gone! 



43 



THE OLD STAGECOACH. 

FOR MUSIC. 
I. 

Though others boast of their raih-oad speed, 
The rattling car, and the whistle's screanij 
And look with pride on the iron steed, 

With fiery lungs, and a breath of steam, — 
The jostHng, crowding, rushing a-head. 

And scolding, fretting, all in a rage, — 
I sigh again for the visions, fled. 

Of turnpike roads and the old mail stage. 

Then, ho ! for the days of the turnpike road, 

The prancing steeds, and the brisk approach, 
The mellow horn, and the merry load 
That used to ride in the old stagecoach ! 

II. 

The old stagecoach, in its golden day. 
Rolled proudly on, with its cheerful load. 

And claimed from all the full right of way, 
A monarch, then, of the turnpike road ! 



44 THE OLD STAGECOACH. 

But now the day of its pride is o'er, 

It yields the palm to the railway train ; 
The dear old friend, so beloved of yore. 
We ne'er shall look on its like again. 

Then, ho ! for the days of the turnpike road, 

The prancing steeds, and the brisk approach, 
The mellow horn, and the merry load 
That used to ride in the old stagecoach ! 



III. 

The old stagecoach, as it came, of old. 

Each idler roused with its noisy din ; 
With cracking whip, how it briskly rolled. 
With conscious pride, to the village inn ! 
But now it stands in the stable-yard, 
With dusty seats and a rusty tire. 
And we this friend of our youth discard. 
For railway cars and a steed of fire ; 

Yet give me the days of the turnpike road. 

The prancing steeds, and the brisk approach. 
The mellow horn, and the merry load 
That used to ride in the old stagecoach! 



THE OLD STAGECOACH. 45 

IV. 

Though others boast of their railroad speed, 

The rattling cars, and the whistle's scream, 
And look with pride on the iron steed, 

With lungs of fire and a breath of steam, 
I sigh again for the golden day. 

When, up the green, with its merry load, 
The old stage came, as it held the sway, 
A monarch, proud, of the turnpike road. 

Then, ho ! for the days of the turnpike road, 

The prancing steeds, and the brisk approach. 
The mellow horn, and the merry load 
That used to ride in the old stagecoach ! 



46 



BRIGHTER HOURS SHALL COME. 

MUSIC BY J. HOSKINS, ESQ. 
I. 

Through every checkered scene of life, 

Until we reach the goal, 
In hours of peace, or bitter strife. 

Song cheers the drooping soul. 
Then, if to-day no joy should smile, 

And pleasure's voice be dumb, 
Let song the aching heart beguile, 

Till brighter hours shall come. 

II. 
What though each fond enjoyment dies. 

And dearest hopes decay. 
And tears perennial fill the eyes, 

Along life's dreary way ? 
Ah ! when the darkest hour is near, 

And every pulse is numb. 
Let song thy drooping spirits cheer, 

Till brighter hours shall come. 



BRIGHTER HOURS SHALL COME. 47 

III. 

Hope on, though joy should long delay ; 

'T is better than despair ; 
Endure the grief that must have way, 

'T will lighten all life's care. 
And if the heart at last is riven, 

Ne'er yet to fate succumb. 
For song shall make for thee a Heaven, 

Where brighter hours shall come ! 



48 



WE PARTED IN YOUTH. 

FOR MUSIC. 
I. 

"We parted in youth, but 't was fate bade us sever, 

And hope sweetly whispered, " we soon meet again ; " 
Alas ! had we known that farewell was forever, 

No power should have sundered our fond hearts in twain. 
I left thee a rover on life's stormy ocean ; 

Thou, thou wert the star I had chosen to guide ; 
And ne'er has my heart ever swerved in devotion, 

But turns to thee fondly, whate'er may betide. 

II. 
We parted in youth, when our vows were first spoken. 

Nor dreamed of the fate that should darken our years ; 
But truth ever triumphs, those vows are unbroken. 

Made stronger, like cords, with their dewing of tears. 
Though wrecked on the waters, and hopelessly driven. 

Wide, wide o'er the ocean where'er the storm will, 
Despairing, I look, when the storm-cloud is riven, 

And thou art the star I would gaze upon still. 



WE PARTED IN YOUTH. 49 

III. 

"We parted in youth, and, each hope early blighted. 

We never can meet, those fond vows to renew ; 
But deathless affections our hearts have united, 

And distance ne'er sunders, when spirits are true. 
Though sinking beneath the dark whirl of the ocean, 

And helpless I struggle, I will not despair ; 
In some distant world, shines my star of devotion. 

And thou art the one I will gaze upon there ! 
5 



50 



COMING HOME. 

FOR MUSIC. 
I. 

Adieu — is uttered with a sigh; 

Farewell — we speak in pain ; 
We ever part with tearful eye ; 

We may not meet again ; 
But O, there is a blissful word, 

When breathed by those who roam, 
Which thrills with joy whenever heard, 

'T is, coming, coming home ! 

II. 
'T is sad to take the parting gaze 

For long, long, weary years, 
As onward through the gathering^*haze, 

The gallant bark careers. 
But joy untold the bosom swells. 

When o'er the dashing foam 
We mark the whitening sail that tells, 

The loved are coming home ! 



COMING HOME. 51 

III. 

We love to hear from those who pine 

Upon a foreign strand ; 
There is a pleasure in each line, 

Traced by the well-known hand ; 
But O the rapture of that hour, 

When those beloved who roam. 
Have breathed those words of magic power, 

I 'm coming, coming home ! 



52 



I LOVE THE OLD SONGS. 

MUSIC BY J, HOSKINS, "ESQ. 
I. 

I LOVE the old songs that we used to sing ; 
There's a rapture untold in the measure ; 

't is not in the air, but there's something still there 
That wakens and thi'ills me with pleasiu-e. 

Li those bright happy days of the olden time, 
Ere a shadow of care had come o'er us. 

We sang the old songs with a simple chime, 
And our hearts were as hght as the chorus. 

II. 

1 love the old songs that we used to hear, 

Wlien the shadows of evening were darkening ; 
O they still have a spell, the warm bosom to swell, 

As they hold me delighted with barkening. 
It must be the friends who once joined in the song — 

Whose sweet voices such pleasm-e could give me — 
Come back as I sing, and around me throng, 

To rejoin in the strains they sung with me. 



I LOVE THE OLD SONGS. 53 

III. 

I love the old songs, for they bring the days 

When I joined in the chorus light-hearted ; 
O that simple refrain, 't is reviving again 

The joys that have long since departed ! 
O ! the bright, happy days of the olden time. 

Ere a shadow of care had come o'er us. 
When we sung the old songs with a simple chime, 

And our hearts were as light as the chorus ! 
6* 



54 



ASK ME NOT TO SAY FAREWELL. 

MUSIC BY C. C. HULL, ESQ. 
I. 

Thou canst liglitly say, we part, 

Since it brings no pang to thee ; 
Though it leaves a broken heart, 

And a hopeless lot to me : 
Yet I would not bid thee stay ; 

Those light words dissolve the spell ; 
Since we part, and part for aye. 

Ask me not to say farewell ! 

II. 
Thou canst say, forget the past, 

Be as though we never met. 
And as idly from thee cast 

Each fond vow, without regret; 
I can never thus efface 

Thoughts that deep within me dwell ; 
There they still must have a place — 

Ask me not to say farewell ! 



ASK ME NOT TO SAY FAREWELL. 55 



III. 

Thou canst bask in other smiles, 

Since tl^ heart will feel no blight, 
And when pleasure's path beguiles, 

Li another's love delight ; 
But the heart that once has known 

Love's first pure and holy spell. 
If forsaken, dwells alone, 

Broken by the word, farewell ! 



56 



REMEMBER! O REMEMBER! 

MUSIC BY W. H. CUKRIE, ESQ. 
I. 

Though far away, O let thy bosom cherish 

Those holy thoughts we long have held so dear ; 
Nor let one love-tie from the number perish, 

"Which bound oiu' hearts in one when I was near. 
In distant lands, my pensive vigils keeping, 

Thy bosom is my spirit's sacred home ; 
Alas ! in loneliness I 'm sadly weeping 

That I am doomed from that pure shrine to roam. 
Remember ! O remember ! 
Though far aw^ay, still let thy bosom cherish 

Those holy thoughts which link my soul to thee, 
Nor let one love-tie from the number perish, 
Remember ! O remember me ! 



Others, I know, to win thy love are seeking ; 
They '11 tell thee I am false and will betray 



REMEMBER, O REMEMBER ! 57 

Believe tliem not, when honied words they 're speaking ; 

They ne'er can love like one who 's far away ! 
Where'er I roam, my heart is ever turning, 

With deepest homage, to thy bosom's shrine. 
Where love's pure flame, like holy incense burning, 

Will keep it free from any vow but mine. 
Remember ! O remember ! 
Though far away, still let thy bosom cherish 

Those holy thoughts which link my soul to thee, 
Nor let onejove-tie from the number perish. 
Remember ! O remember me ! 



58 



THE SIGH I BREATHE ALONE. 

MUSIC BY GEORGE S. BRAUN. 
I. 

Oh, could my heart but tell its grief, 

How soon would I confess it ; 
But vain is every hoped relief, 

No language can express it ! 
Then let me pour my silent tears, 

And hush the spiidt's groan, 
And sacred keep from other ears 

The sigh I breathe alone. 

II. 
If half my anguish I could speak, 

I would no more conceal it ; 
But words, alas ! are all too weak, 

Too well I know, who feel it ! 
Then let my tears in secret flow. 

Nor ask one murmuring tone ; 
But what I feel no one can know, 

Till they shall weep alone ! 



THE SIGH I BREATHE ALONE. 59 



III. 

Oh, could my drooping spirit rove, 

I 'd leave the grief which tries it, 
But how can I forget her love, 

Who learned so well to prize it ? 
Thus, evermore, in silent tears, 

I hush the spirit's groan, 
And sacred keep from other ears 

The sigh I breathe alone ! 



60 



MY MOTHER'S SMILE. 

MUSIC BY J. HOSKINS. 
I. 

The rosy blush has left the cheek, 

Her voice is soft and low ; 
Her step is tremblmg, now, and weak, 

Her locks are like the snow ; 
The mild blue eye no longer beams 

With light, as once erewMle ; 
Yet sweeter than an angel's seems 

My gentle mother's smile ! 

II. 
Though wrinkled now, I love to dwell 

Upon her thoughtful face, 
Where lingers more than beauty's spell, 

Or blush of youthful grace ; 
For there affection ever gleams, 

And love that knows no guile ; 
And brighter than an angel's seems 

My dearest mother's smile ! 



MY mother's smile. 61 

III. 

When far away, and thoughts of home 

Fill all my dreams at night, 
And mid bright angel throngs I roam, 

I see her form of light. 
The first to come, the last to go, 

And fairest all the while ; 
It greets me with a heavenly glow, 

My tender mother's smile ! 

IV. 

On earth, its light shall cheer my way, 

And sweeten all my care ; 
And, when death comes, its purer ray 

Shall beam around me there ; 
And, when I yield this mortal state. 

This thought shall still beguile, 
'T will be so sweet, at heaven's gate, 

To meet ray mother's smile ! 
6 



62 



THE LAST MEETING WITH THE OLD 
FOLKS AT HOME. 

FOR MUSIC. 
I. 

Ah ! many and sad are the years we have known, 

Since, round the old hearth-stone, we joyfully met ; 
What dreams of ambition forever have flown. 

And hope's fairy visions, in darkness, have set ! 
But the past is forgotten, now we are all here, 

Where first we knew grief as we parted to roam ; 
And O, what a rapture there is in a tear, 

When shed as we meet with the old folks at home ! 

II. 
Our paths have been widely dissevered through life, 

And varied the scenes that have yielded employ ; 
To some it has been but a dark battle strife. 

While others have felt sweet emotions of joy ! 
But now, as returned from the East and the West, 

Or safe from a life on the wild ocean foam, 
One deep thrill of pleasure pervades every breast. 

As we all meet again with the old folks at home I 



THE LAST MEETING WITH THE OLD FOLKS. 63 

III. 

Then let us rejoice in re-union to-night, ^|^ 

Since fate, with the dawning, has doomed us to part, 
And all the endearments, that now give delight. 

Must yield to the grief that returns to the heart ! 
For Oh, on the morrow, we sever in paui. 

For a far distant land, or a path o'er the foam. 
Assured, ere we meet on tliis loved spot again, 

The grass will grow green o'er the old folks at home ! 



64 



ANNIE LEE. 

MUSIC BY J. P. ^VEBSTER, ESQ. 
I. 

'T IS now the merry month of May, 

When skies and fields are fair, 
The birds pour forth their roundelay, 

And fragrant is the air ; 
But spring can bring no joyous hours, 

As once it did, to me, 
For O, she perished with the flowers, 

My peerless Aimie Lee ! 

II. 
I seek the grove at eventide, 

Where we so often met, 
To wander sweetly side by side. 

Ere we had known regret ; 
And oft her flute-like voice I hear, 

As when she sang to me. 
And O, I love to think her near, 

My sainted Annie Lee ! 



ANNIE LEE. 65 

III. 

'T was there I told my guileless love, 

And there she breathed her vow, 
And, though she dwells in bliss above, 

She seems beside me now ! 
I see a form, so heavenly bright. 

That sweetly smiles on me. 
And well I know, though robed in light; 

My peerless Annie Lee ! 

IV. 

Let others hail the light of May, 

When skies and fields are fair. 
And birds pour forth their roundelay, 

And fragrant is the air ; 
But all the bliss of vernal hours 

That e'er returns to me. 
Is when I strew with early flowers 

The grave of Annie Lee ! 
6* 



66 



O CHIDE ME NOT. 

MUSIC BY F. "W. EATCLIFF. 
I. 

CHIDE me not, if now a wounded heart 
Must be thy lot — forever thme! 

Smce all the joains you feel can ne'er impart 
The untold anguish swelling mine. 

1 gave to thee the treasures of my soul, 
Nor felt a moment of regret, 

Till taught, alas ! that love could not control 
Thy wish to reign a gay coquet. 

II. 

chide me not, if doomed, tln-ough life's sad years, 
To dwell where hope no ray will cast. 

Though you may seek to find, in silent tears, 
A lethean cup to drown the past. 

1 loved thee once, and with a guileless trust ; 

O, would that dream I could forget ! 

A heart of truth was trampled in the dust 

That you might reign a gay coquet 



O CHIDE ME NOT. 67 

III. 

O, chide me not, if now, when thou dost see 

The fatal snare which led astray, 
Should I refuse to yield that heart to thee, 

Which, once, was lightly cast away; 
And, if no balm thy spirit's wound can heal, 

Upbraid me not with vain regret, 
Since I, alas ! the truth can ne'er conceal, 

That thou hast reigned a gay coquet. 



68 



MOONLIGHT ON THE SEA. 

MUSIC BY 0. M. TRAVEK, ESQ. 
I. 

O COME at night, when all is calm, 

Then, dearest, come with me, 
That we may feel the witching charm 

Of moonlight on the sea. 
The stars are on the deep below. 

And in the skies above ; 
O. come, and thus shall be the glow 

That lights our world of love I 

• II. 

O come amid the hush of night, 

Then, dearest, come with me. 
And you shall taste th^ sweet delight 

Of moonhght on the sea. 
No billow curls the ocean's breast, • 

No cloud is in the sky ; 
O come, and thus shall be the rest 

For which our bosoms sigh ! 



MOONLIGHT ON THE SEA. 69 

III. 

O come in such an hour as tliis, 

Come, dearest, come with me ; 
There is a sweet and tranquil bliss 

In moonlight on the sea. 
When stars are on the deep below, 

And in the skies above ; 
Then, come, and such shall be the glow 

That lights our world of love ! 



70 



O, SHOULD A LIGHT WORD PART US? 

FOR MUSIC. 
I. 

O, SHOULD a light word part us now ? 

When we life's heavy cares have borne, 
Or weaken aught our sacred vow, 

And leave the heart all crushed and torn ? 
But if the dream of love is o'er, 

And sundered every holy tie, 
O, there remains but one thing more — 

To say farewell, and then to die ! 

II. 
O, should a Hght and careless word. 

Annul the joys of many yeai's, 
And chill the heart that love has stirred. 

And leave it to despairing tears ? 
But, if I 'm banished from thy heart, 

And thou art pained when I am nigh, 
O, then 't is well that we should part, 

To say farewell, and then to die ! 



O, SHOULD A LIGHT WORD PART US? 71 

III. 

O, should a word, in thoughtless haste, 

Regretted, ere the sound was gone, 
Thus leave the heart a hopeless waste. 

And bring a night that has no dawn ?• 
But if the dream of love is past. 

And thou canst part without a sigh, 
O, then, farewell ! — it is the last — 

A broken heart has but to die ! 



72 



THE PRAIRIE HUNTERS 

MUSIC BY C. M. DE LA PERRIERE. 
I. 

True hunters of the West are we ; 
Our path is o'er the prairie lea ; 
We track the stealthy panther's lair, 
And grapple with the gi'izzly bear. 
With mettled steed and dauntless eye, 
Swift as the winds, along we fly, 

Cheerily shouting, as we go, 

HiUi ho ! hilli ho ! 
True hunters of the West are we : 

Cheerily ho, prairie hunters ! 

None so happy, sure, as we, 

Ever joyous, ever free, 
Hilli ho, prau'ie hunters ! 

Hilli ho, hilli ho, ah ho ! 

Hilli ho, ah hilli ho, ah ho ! 



THE PRAIRIE HUNTERS. 73 

II. 

True lovers of the West are we ; 
Our "home, sweet home" the prairie lea. 
'T is not that from its fertile plains 
The farmer reaps the richest grains ; 
But here, untouched by want or strife, 
We spend our joyous hunter's life, 

Cheerily shouting, as we go, 

HiUihblliimho! 
True lovers of the West are we : 
Cheerily ho, prame hunters ! 

Let the dullard delve for gold ; 

Ever joyous, uncontrolled, 
Hilli ho, prairie hunters ! 

Hilli ho, hilli ho, ah ho ! 

Hilli ho, ah hilli ho, ah ho ! 

III. 

True monarchs of the West are we ; 
Our wide domain is the prairie lea. 
We envy not the kmg his crown. 
And what care we for cit or town ? 
Our joy is on the bison's track, 
The stirring chase, the rifle's crack ; 
7 



74 THE PRAIRTE HUNTERS. 

Cheerily shouting, as we go, 

HiUi ho ! him ho ! 
True monarlchs of the West are we ; 
Cheerily ho, prairie hunters ! 

None so happy, sure, as we, 

Ever joyous, ever free, 
Hilli ho, prairie hunters ! 

Hilli ho, hiUi ho, ah ho ! 

Hilli ho, ah hilli ho, ah ho ! 



75 



NELLY GORDON. 

MUSIC BY J. P. WEBSTER, ESQ. 
I. 

I HAVE loved tliee, Nelly Gordon, 

Till my heart now cleaves to thine, 
As devoted, Nelly Gordon, 

As the tendril to the vine. 
Ah ! to me, thy smile is brighter 

Than the blush of vernal hours, 
And thy fairy footsteps lighter 

Than the down of summer flowers ; 
O, then, tell me, Nelly Gordon, 

If thy spirit turns to me 
As devoted, Nelly Gordon, 

As mine ever cleaves to thee ? 

II. 
I will love thee, Nelly Gordon, 

When the false and vain deceive ; 
I will shield thee, Nelly Gordon, 

When, forsaken, thou shalt grieve , 



76 NELLY GORDON. 

And, though time may shade thy beauty, 

I will never change my vow 
To a cold and formal duty, 

But will love thee then as now. 
O, then, tell me, Nelly Gordon, 

If thy spirit turns to me 
As devoted, Nelly Gordon, 

As mine ever cleaves to thee ? 



77 



THE SONGS MY MOTHER SUNG. 



MUSIC BY "J. H. 



Though I delight in strains 

Whicli others breathe so well, 
When melody enchains 

The soul with magic spell, 
I gladly turn apart 

From every warbling tongue. 
To hear, with melting heart, 

The songs my mother sung. 

II. 

It was a simple lay 

That charmed my boyish years ; 
But still its power can sway, 

And melt my heart to tears ; 
And, though I ne'er again 

Can hear that tuneful tongue, 
My soul, in soft refrain. 

Repeats the songs she sung. 
7* 



78 THE SONGS MY MOTHER SUNG. 

III. 

Then, chide m§ not, if I 

Seem cold, when others praise, 
And only breathe a sigh, 

When joyous are their lays ; 
O, can I e'er forget 

The time when I was young, 
And in my heart were set 

The songs my mother sung ! 



79 



m DREAMS I LOVE THEE STILL. 

MUSIC BY W. H. CUKKIE, ESQ. 
I. 

I VOWED to sigh and pine no more, 

Nor give one passing thouglit to thee — 
I 'd be light-hearted as before, 

And cold as thou to me ; 
But, when soft slumber's golden reign 

Has freed the heart from reason's will, 
I find my waking vows are vain — 

In dreams, I love thee still. 

• 
II. 

Again I think how false thou art, 
The vows cast off without regret. 

And sternly chide my wayward heart, 

^ The false one to forget ; 

But, when the night's calm hour returns. 
And slumber leaves the heart at will, 

My firm resolves it idly spurns, — 
In dreams, I love thee still. 



80 IN DREAMS I LOVE THEE STILL. 

III. 

I may not hope to win again 

The love you once were free to give, 
Nor feel a sweet relief from pain ; 

'T is mine alone to grieve ; 
But I will cease to school my heart 

To bend to sterner reason's will, 
And freely own, whate'er thou art, 

I fondly love thee still ! 



81 



COME NOT WHEN THE HEART IS SAD. 

MUSIC BY J. M. HUBBARD, ESQ. 



O, COME not when the heart is sad, 

And tears suffuse the eyes ; 
Nor when the shades of evening rest 

Upon the pensive skies ; 
Choose not a dark and mournful time 

To visit graves, where lie 
The forms of those beloved most, 

Whose spirits are on high. 
But come when morning suns are bright, 

Amid the blush of spring. 
When thy own heart is light and free 

As birds that gaily sing. 

II. 
O, come not at the gloaming hour, 

When night's dark shadows chill, 
And croaking birds are heard around. 

Or mournful whippo'will ; 



82 COME NOT WHEN THE HEART IS SAD. 

But when the lark is on the wmg, 

To greet the'smiHng morn, 
And beams of golden sunlight glance 

O'er all the waving corn ; 
When all is joyous, peace, and light, 

And sorrow thence is driven, 
O visit, in an hour like this, 

The grave of one in heaven! 



83 



PEACE, BE STILL. 

FOR MUSIC. 



When, on the raging sea of life, 

The billows roll and skies are dark, 
And, faint with toiling, we despair, 

As slowly sinks our foundering bark, 
But turn, in faith, to Him who speaks. 

And wind and sea obey His will. 
And cry, " O save ! " His voice will calm 

The swelling floods with, ''Peace, he still P' 

II. 

Though tempest-tossed, and half a wreck, 

Fear not, nor winds nor sea can harm. 
With Jesus present in the ship. 

To hush the ocean into calm. 
But let Him hear one earnest cry. 

When fear the trembling heart shall fill, — 
" Save, Master, save ! " — He speaks, and lo ! 

The tempest hears: 'tis " Peace, he still!" 



84 PEACE, BE STILL. 

III. 

Though He may seem awhile to sleep, 

When billows yawn, our bark to whelm, 
His watchful care still guides our way. 

His head is pillowed near the helm. 
And, when our doubting hearts grow faint, 

And fears the frenzied bosom fill. 
He chides our di'ooping faith, and cries, 

" Be calm, ye waves ; ye winds, be still ! " 

IV. 

O, trust Him, then, whate'er betide ; 

Though winds and waves may .loudest roar ; 
He waits awhile, our faith to prove. 

Then bids the tempest rage no more. 
He speaks, and O, the wondrous power. 

The wind and.waves obey His will ! 
And, o'er the wide-spread sea of life, 

'Tis calm as heaven, at — ^' Peace, he still T' 



85 



THE HEART CAN TRUST NO MORE. 

MUSIC BY JULES BENEDICT. 
I. 

Hopes once gone are gone forever, 

They return not to the heart ; 
Though we seek them, yet they never 

Will again their light impart. 
Thus, if love's first vows are broken. 

Every dream of bliss is o'er ; 
Truth, once sullied, is the token 

That the heart can trust no more ! 

II. 
Wealth and beauty, swiftly flying, 

Outward griefs, can all be met ; 
While on plighted vows relying. 

Fortune's frowns bring no regret. 
But, if truth has once departed. 

Love's fond dreams of bliss are o'er ; 
Then, alas ! the broken-hearted 

Feels the heart can trust no more ! 
8 



86 



NE'ER THINK I CAN DECEIVE THEE, 

SET TO AN AIR BY aiOZART. 
I. 

Ne'er think I can deceive thee, 

Or cause thee e'er to rue ; 
Though all are false, believe me, 

One heart can still be true. 
The stars above us beaming 

Will leave their azure sphere, 
Ere, from my brightest dreaming. 

Thine image disappear ! 

II. 
I know the heart is changing, 

And fickle as the wave. 
And often, in its rangmg. 

Recalls the love it gave. 
The floods may leave the ocean. 

The dewy flowers the lea, 
But never my devotion. 

One moment turn from thee ! 



ne'er think I CAN DECEIVE THEE. 87 

III. 

Though far our paths may sever, 

Should fate e'er bid us part, 
Nor time nor place shall ever 

Divide my constant heart ; 
But, while its pulse is beating, 

Its truth unstained shall be ; 
And, when this last is fleeting, 

That throb shall be for thee! 



88 



ALICE IN HEAVEN. 



MUSIC BY PROF. W. H, CUKEIE. 



How beauteous is the evening's close 

When twilight di-aweth nigh, 
And gorgeously the mellow rays 

Adorn the pensive sky ! 
It is an hour for holy thought ; 

But O, I love the even, 
For 't is the hour my darling one, 

Sweet Alice, went to heaven ! 

II. 
I looked upon her angel brow, 

Death's touch had made more fair, 
And, in those gently closing eyes, 

The light of Heaven was there. 
One fadmg smile, one look of love, 

And life's last tie was riven ; 
Alas ! that I was left to mourn 

Sweet Alice, now in heaven ! 



ALICE IN HEAVEN. 89 

III. 

The gloom of night may shroud the earth, 

And stars forsake the skies, 
But on my sad and aching heart 

A deeper darkness lies ; 
For O, my soul's bright star is quenched, 

Whose rays such joy had given : • 
It set, to rise no more on earth. 

When Alice went to heaven ! 

IV. 

I listen for her cherub voice. 

Her merry, sylph-like tread ; 
I watch to catch her beaming smiles. 

Then comes the thought — she 's dead ! 
They tell me she is happy now, 

To soothe my spirit, riven ; 
But I must still a weeper be, — 

Sweet Alice is in heaven ! 

V. 

But, when such thoughts lie on the soul, 

And tears suffuse the eyes. 
And murmurs tremble on the lips, 

That Uius the heart He tries, 

8* 



9C ALICE IN HEAVEN. 

I '11 think of Him who hath the life 
And resurrection given, 

And joy that I shall meet again 
Sweet Alice, now in heaven J 



91 



I NE'ER CAN LOVE THEE LESS* 

MUSIC BY THE AUTHOR. 
I. 

In youth, unto my lips was pressed 

A flower beyond compare, 
And then I laid it on my breast. 

To shed its fragrance there. 
Its withered leaves, with nicest art, 

In memory's folds I press, 
And shrine them in my inmost heart : 

I ne'er can love thee less ! 



And, though the bloom has left thy cheek. 

The starry light thine eyes. 
Thy quivering lips the anguish speak. 

Thy patience would disguise — 



* The wife of the author having been attacked "with erysipelas in the face, her 
physician applied iodine, which bronzed the skin. The author entering the room 
soon after, she threw a handkerchief over her face, remarking, that he " should 
not see her ; for, if he did, he would love her no more." While watching by her 
bedside that, night, these words were written and presented to her in the morning . 



92 I ne'er can love thee less. 

Though pain and years upon thy brow 

Have left their deep impress, 
And thou "wert fairer once than now, 

I ne'er can love thee less ! 

in. 

I sought thee not for beauty's gloss, 

That evanescent thing ; 
Its absence were too slight a loss 

One faint regret to bring. 
Thy truth and love — these ne'er can change, 

Nor cease my heart to bless, 
Nor can there aught my love estrange ; 

I ne'er can love thee less ! 



93 



SERENADE. 

MUSIC BY H. J. PETERS, ESQ. 
I. 

Awake ! the moonbeams crown the night, 
And slumber on the sea, love, 

And all the stars abo# are bright, 
Awake from di-eams of me, love ! 
Awake from dreams of me I 

II. 

Sweet incense pours from dewy flowers, 
Fit emblem pure of thee, love, 

And zephyrs come from honied bowers, 
Awake, and list to me, love ! 
Awake, and list to me ! 

III. 
The voice of night dehghts the ear, 

And floats along the lea, love, 
But thine, more sweet, I wait to hear. 

Breathe one fond word for me, love ! 

Breathe one fond word for me ! * 



94 SERENADE. 

IV. 

Let beauty weave her magic spell, 
It has no charms for me, love ; 

Since first I loved thee, O how well. 
My heart is true to thee, love ! 
My heart is true to thee ! 



Where'er the bliss of balmy sleep 
From care shall setThee free, love. 

And angels watch around thee keep, 
Bright be thy dreams of me, love ! 
Bright be thy dreams of me ! 

VI. . 

But now, wliile moonbeams crown the night, 

And slumber on the sea, love. 
And all the stars above are bright. 

Awake, and smile on rae, love ! 

Awake, and smile on me ! 



95 



SONG SHALL GUARD OUR LIBERTY. 

FOR MUSIC. 
I. 

When our forefathers from them cast 
The chains which bound the conscience fast, 
They vowed henceforth the soil they trod 
Should have no king but thee, O God ! 
But evermore from sea to sea, 
Should glow the fires of liberty. 
And we, their sons, repeat again. 
Here pope, nor priest, nor king, shall reign. 
Then let us sing our native land, 
. The chorus swell from sea to sea ; 
For song will nerve each heart and hand 
To guard our glorious Liberty. 

II. 
Ay, by the blood that freely flowed, 
When first the fires of freedom glowed ; 
By all the years of toil and pain 
Endured to break the tyrant's chain ; 



96 SONG SHALL GUARD OUR LIBERTY. 

And by the freedom nobly won, 

* We pledge, eacliirue Columbia's son, 

To guard our own dear native land 

From every foreign spoiler's hand. 

Then rally, rally, patriot band. 

The chorus swell from sea to sea ; 
For song will nerve each heart and hand 
To guard our glorious Liberty. 

III. 

We welcome all who hither come 
To find in Freedom's land a home. 
And give them leave with us to toil. 
To gather riches from our soil. 
And earn the sacred right to be 
True guardians of our Liberty; 
With us to hold, with us to guide 
The land for which our fathers died. 
Then let us sing our native land, 

The chorus swell from sea to sea ; 
For song shall nerve each heai't and hand 

To guard our glorious Liberty. 



97 



1 ne'p:r forget. 



Do not chide, if fond affection 

Lingers still, when hope is past ; 
Weeping tears of deej) dejection 

Where the wrecks of joy are cast 
Can the heart thus rudely sever 

Dearest ties without regret ? 
Call it weakness — yet forever 

I must love — I ne'er forget! 

II. 
Well I know that vows were broken- 

KnoAv that truth was cast away ; 
That to me it was a token 

Hope could shed no cheering ray. 
Still my heart will fondly cherish 

That dear name as sacred yet ; 
Call it madness — if I perish, 

I must love — I ne'er forget! 
9 



98 



MINNIE MYRTLE. 

MUSIC BY W. C. CUEEIE, ESQ., AND J. HOWAlll* DOANE, KSQ. 
HAS ALSO BEEN SET TO OTHER MELODIES. 

I. 

We smoothed down the locks of her soft golden haii-. 

And folded her hands on her breast, 
And laid her, at eve, m the valley so fair, 

'Mid the blossoms of summer to rest. 
O rest, Lilly, rest ; no care can assail. 

For green grows the turf o'er the tear-moistened grave 
Of the fairest flower of the vale ! 



She sleeps 'neath the spot she had marked for repose, 
Where flowers soonest blossom in spring, 

And zephyrs first breathe the perfumes of the rose, 
And the feirds come at evening to sing ; 

O rest, Lilly, rest ; no care can assail, 

For green grows the turf o'er the teai'-raoistened gi'ave 

Of the fairest flower of the vale ! 



MINNIE MYRTLE. 99 



The wide-spreading boughs of the old chestnut tree 

Bend low o'er the place where she lies, 
Where eve's purple beams longest glow on the lea, 

And the morn's drink the dew^ as they rise. 
O rest, Lilly, rest ; no care can assail. 

For green grows the turf o'er the tear-moistened grave 
Of the fairest flower of the vale ! 

IV. 

Alone, where the brook murmurs soft on the air, 

She sleeps with the turf on her breast, 
As we laid her, at eve, in the valley so fair, 

'IVIid the blossoms of summer to rest. 
O rest, Lilly, rest ; no care can assail. 

For green grows the turf o'er the tear-moistened grave 
Of the fairest flower of the vale ! 



100 



WE TWO HAVE BEEN LIKE BROTHERS. 

MUSIC BY I. B. WOODBURY, ESQ. 
1. 

We two have been like brothers, 

Through long and weary years ; 
One's joy has been the other's, 

His sadness and his tears. 
Though life has brought its changes, 

And others have grown chill, 
Our hearts no time estranges, 

We two are brothers still. 

II. 
Our hearts were linked like brothers 

In early dawn of youth, 
When each became the other's. 

In confidence and truth ; 
And now, when worn and weaiy. 

We totter down the hill. 
It makes the way less dreary 

That we are brothers still. 



WE TWO HAVE BEEN LIKE BROTHERS. 101 

in. 
Through life we 've been like brothers, 

To help in time of need, 
To share what was the other's, 

And be a friend indeed ; 
And ne'er, whate'er betide us, 

Or be it good or ill, 
Shall aught on earth divide us, — 

We two are brothers still ! 

9* 



102 



WE TWO HAVE BEEN LIKE SISTERS. 

FOR MUSIC. 
I. 

We two have been like sisters, 

Since first we gathered flowers 
To grace the brow of childhood 

In life's bright vernal hours ; 
And, now those days are numbered. 

And care is on each brow, 
We quite forget their fading, — 

We two are sisters now. 

TI. 

We were confiding sisters. 

When others sought to share 
The love our hearts had mingled. 

Ere other thoughts were there ; 
Alas ! how soon forgotten 

Was every solemn vow ! 
We then were one in sadness. 

We two are sisters now. 



WE TWO HAVE BEEN LIKE SISTERS. 103 

III. 

We e'er were loving sisters 

In joy and hours of grief; 
In mingled bliss or sorrow, 

Found pleasure or relief; 
And, though each hope may perish 

That time can e'er allow, 
We'll live and love like sisters, 

Affectionate as now. 



101 



MY FATHER IS HERE. 

MUSIC BY L. V. H. CROSBY, AND PROF. T. WOOD. 
I. 

In the hush of the evening, alone, 

A mother sat watching her child, 
When a light o'er its foir features shone, 

And its lips in soft murmurings smiled. 
She listens to catch every sigh, 

And joy takes the place of a tear, 
For it talks of the angels on high, 

And whispers, My Father is here. 
My Father is here ! 

II. 
And her heart grew so calm and serene, 

As she gazed on the vacant old chair 
Where so often the loved one was seen, 

Fcmshe knew that his spirit was there. 
Xhen she pressed the soft lips of her child, 

And felt that an angel was near. 
For it woke to her pressure and smiled, 

And whispered. My Father is here, 
My Father is here ! 



105 



LILLA CLARE. 



FOB MUSIC. 



I. 

"When first I knew sweet Lilla Clare, 

ISio star could match her sparkling eye, 
And with the cheek of Lilla Clare 

The summer rose would blush to vie. 
Her flowing locks in golden waves 

Were bright as sunbeams on the tide, 
And her sweet voice and witching smile 

Held me a captive by her side. 
And thus the love of Lilla Clare 

Becamie more dear than life to me ; 
My only wish, that Lilla Clare 

"Would never set her captive free. 

n. 

I told my love to Lilla Clare. 

"With downcast look she heard me through; 
Then, with a blush, sighed Lilla Clare, 

My heart to thine is ever true ! 



106 LILLA CLAllE. 

But soon my dreams of bliss were o'er, 

And all my fond affections sere, 
For Lilla sleeps in yonder grave. 

And I am left heart-broken here. 
O, now I weep for Lilla Clare, 

And know no joy but in a sigh ; 
I long to rest by Lilla Clare, 

Where tears no more can dim the eye. 



107 



AH, IS IT SWEET TO TELL ME? 

MUSIC BY S. W. STONE, ESQ. 
I. 

Ah, is it sweet to tell me, 

Or worth my while to keep 
A secret only whispered 

In vagaries of sleep ? 
Yet tell to me the treasure, 

I '11 prize it for thy sake ; 
And love me still when dreaming, 

But talk as one awake. 

II. 

The love you fondly whisper, 

When waking, to my ear, 
Though only felt when dreaming, 

Is ever held most dear. 
One may deceive when waking. 

Be other than he seems ; 
But slumber knows no falsehood. 

The heart is true m dreams. 



108 AH, IS IT SWEET TO TELL ME? 

III. 

But talk no more of dreaming, 

Of hopes that falsely shine ; 
With all its deep devotion, 

My heart responds to thine ! 
Then tell the blissful secret, 

I'll keep it -for thy sake, 
And love me still when dreaming 

But talk as one awake. 



]09 



RETURN, RETURN TO ME. 

I. 

When thou slialt find thy promised joys are fleeting, 

And learn how false a seeming friend can be ; 
When every fibre of thy heart is beating, 

And there are none to share that grief with thee ; 
Then think of one whom now you pass unheeding, — 

A step ere long you '11 deeply, sadly rue, — 
And, though you come with heart all torn and bleeding. 

Yet, O, return, return ! I still am true ! 
Return, return to me. 
When thou shalt find thy promised joys are perished, 

And know how false a seeming friend can be, 
And learn to prize the truth once fondly cherished, 

O, then return, return to me. 

II. 
I will not cliide for vows thus lightly broken. 

Thy heart has ne'er been false, but was betrayed" ; 
And O, those holy words thy lips have spoken, 

In fondest, truest love will yet be paid ; 

10 



110 RETURN, RETURN TO ME. 

For thou wilt soon from this sad dream awaken, 

And yearn to breathe those first warm vows anev/ ; 
And, though I now am lightly thus forsaken, 

Then O, return, return ! I still am true ! 
Return, return to me. 
When thou shalt find thy promised joys are perished. 

And know how false a seeming fi-iend can be, 
,And learn to prize the truth once fondly cherished, 

O, then return, return to me. 



Ill 



THE LIGHT OF SADNESS. 

I. 
How fondly will affection cling 

To what we earlj cherish, 
E'en when it has no power to bring 

The joys so soon to perish. 
The heart delights to linger there, 

And, with a mournful pleasure, 
Still gathers up with pious care 

The dust of buried treasure. 

II. 
There is a pleasure in a sigh. 

When pure the fount of feeling ; 
And brighter is the tearful eye 

Then when 't is joy revealing. 
'T is sweet from out the wreck of years 

To cull each withered token. 
And garner up a store of tears, 

To feed the heart when broken. 



112 



LITTLE BLIND BELL, 

rOK MUSIC. 

I. 
That bright sunbeam ! where has it gone ? 

'T was on my cheek and brow ; 
O, has it from the window ilown, 

Or is it by me now? 
I felt it warm the gushing tears 

Which from my eyelids steal, 
But when I try to hold it there, 

Its rays I cannot feel. 
Alas, I cannot grasp that beam ! 

Say, mother, can. you tell 
Why I can never catch the rays 

That kiss your little Bell ? 

II. 
O, 'tis so sad to dwell in gloom. 

And know that from the skies 
The sunbeams glance, and softly lie 

Upon my very eyes. 



LITTLE BLIND BELL. 113 



Ah, when I feel them resting there, 

I grasp with all my might ; 
Perhaps, if I could hold them there, 

I soon should see the light. 
But when I shut my hand, they fly ! 

O, mother, can you tell 
Why I can never catch the beams 

That kiss your little Bell. 

III. 
The sunbeam loves me, I am sure, 

For it so often flies 
To leave its warm kiss on my cheek, 

And di-y my weeping eyes. 
And though my hand may not retain 

The bright one ever here, 
I shall in heaven behold the glow 

That lights its radiant sphere ; 
For there no night will ever come, 

I 've often heard you tell. 
Nor shadow rest upon the eyes 

Of happy little Bell. 

10* 



114 



DEAREST OLD MANSION. 

MUSIC BY J. M. HUBBARD, ESQ. 
I. 

Sweet home of my childhood ! 

My heart turns to thee, 
As when through thy wild-wood, 

My steps wandered free ; 
But sadness comes o'er me, 

And tear-drops will gleam, 
Since thou art before me, 

The light of a dream ; 
Ah ! dearest old mansion, 

I cleave to thee still. 
As when in my childhood, 

I crossed o'er thy sill. 

II. 
The love that enshrined thee, 
In childhood's bright hour, 



DEAREST OLD MANSION. 115 

Unshaken, still binds thee 

With sanctified power. 
Though fairest I knew thee, 

Yet now thou dost seem 
A heaven, as I viewed thee 

The light of a dream. 
Ah ! dearest old mansion, 

I cleave to thee still. 
As when in my childhood 

I crossed o'er thy sill. 

III. 
The flowers are all blighted 

Which grew at thy door, 
Where once we delighted 

To gather of yore, 
And ivy is twining 

The moss-covered beam, 
But thou art still shining, 

The light of a dream. 
Ah ! dearest old mansion, 

I cleave to thee still. 
As when in my childhood 

I crossed o'er thy sill. 



116 DEAREST OLD MANSION. 

IV. 

All, all is decaying, 

Thy loved ones are gone, 
And lonely I'm straying 

The path up the lawn : 
But, home of my childhood ! 

My heart turns to thee, 
As when through thy wild-wood, 

My steps wandered free. 
Ah ! dearest old mansion, 

I cleave to thee still, 
As when in my childhood 

I crossed o'er thy sill. 



117 



BETTER LATE THAN NEVER. 



MUSIC BY " 3IARIE MADWORT. 



I. 

Life is a race where some succeed, 

While others are beginning ; 
'T is luck at times, at others speed, 

That gives an early winning. 
But if you chance to fall behind. 

Ne'er slacken your endeavor ; 
Just keep this wholesome truth in mind, • 

'T is better late than never. 

II. 
If you can keep ahead, 't is well, 

But never trip your neighbor ; 
'T is noble when you can excel 

By honest, patient labor. 
But, if you are outstripped at last. 

Press on as bold as ever; 
Remember, though you are surpassed, 

'T is better late than never ! . 



118 BETTER LATE THAN NEVER. 

III. 

Ne'er labor for an idle boast 

Of victory o'er another, 
But, while you strive your uttermost, 

Deal fairly with a brother. 
"Whate'er your station, do your best, 

And hold your purpose ever ; 
And if you fail to beat the rest, 

'T is better late than never ! 

IV. 

Choose well the path in which you run. 

Succeed by noble daring ; 
Then, though the last, when once 't is won, 

Your crown is worth the wearing. 
Then never fret if left behind, 

Nor slacken your endeavor ; 
But ever keep this truth in mind, — 

'T is better late than never ! 



119 



HIT THE NAIL ON THE HEAD. 

I. 

This world lias a treasure for every true heart, 

That seeks it undaunted through trial and need ; 
The secret to find it is, act well your part, 

Wliatever your station, and you will succeed. 
Be truthful and earnest wherever you go ; 

Hold toil as a blessing that sweetens your bread ; 
Give your heart to each duty, your strength to each 
blow, 

And with every stroke, hit the nail on the head. 

II. 
This world is no hive where the drone may repose, 

While others are gleaning its honey with care ; 
Nor will he succeed who is dealing his blows 

At random, and recklessly hits everywhere. 
But choose well your purpose, then breast to the strife, 

And hold to it firmly, by rectitude led; 
Give your heart to your duty, and strike for your life. 

And with every stroke, hit the nail on the head. 



120 HIT THE NAIL ON THE HEAD. 

III. 

If fate is against you, ne'er falter nor fret, 

'T will not mend your fortunes nor lighten your load ; 
Be earnest, still earnest, and you will forget 

You e'er had a burden to bear on the road. 
And when at the close, what a pleasure to know 

That you, never flinching, however life sped. 
Gave your heart to your duty, your strength to each 
blow, 

And with every stroke, hit the nail on the head. 



121 



WHEN JOY'S FULL TIDE IS RUSHING. 



MUSIC BY CHARLES C, CONVERSE, ESQ. 



When joy's full tide is rushing 

With rapture through the soul, 
The voice of sorrow hushing 

By its divine control, 
Then thoughts of the departed 

Return in memory's train. 
As though the joyous-hearted 

Enticed them back again. 

II. 

They come, no forms revealing, 
No sound breaks on the ear. 

But a sweet and holy feeling 
Evinces they are near. 
11 



122 WHEN joy's FIJLL TIDE IS RUSHING. 

There is a blissful meeting, 

An interchange of love, 
A mystic spirit-greeting, 

Known but to those above. 

III. 

When thoughts of crushing sadness 

Are from the spirits thrown, 
They mingle in our gladness, 

And share with us iheir own ; 
With every joy imparted, 

The dearly loved of yore, 
From memory's slumber started, 

Revisit us once more. 



123 



O, SAY NOT* FRIENDSHIP IS A NAME. 

I. 

0, SAY not friendship is a name, 

Used only for betraying ; 
That none e'er feel the sacred flame 

When fortune is decaying. 
No, there are hearts that never range, 

When once their truth is phghted, 
' But are the same when years of change 

The fairest hopes have blighted. 

II. 
O, say not fiiendship is a word, 

Forgotten when 't is spoken, — 
A vow the ear has often heard, 

No sooner made than broken. 
Ah, no ! it is a sacred thing, 

Still in the bosom cherished, 
The fountain whence our pleasures spring. 

When othergoys have perished. 



124 O, SAY NOT FRIENDSHIP IS A NAME. 

III. 

O, call it not an idle di-eam 

Of fancy's airy weaving, 
A false and evanescent gleam, 

When brightest, still deceiving. 
No, no ! believe me, thou wilt find 

Thy love and truth requited, 
And in the heart their joys enshrined. 

When other hopes are blighted. 



125 



THE ANGELS TOLD ME SO. 

FOR MUSIC. 
I. 

Though they may lay beneatli the ground 

The form of AlHe dear, 
I know his spirit hovers round, 

And mingles with us here. 
His home may be in heaven above ; 

Yet oft to us below 
He will return to breathe his love, — 

The angels told me so, 

II. 

His form reposed upon the bier 

In sweet cherubic rest, 
When others came to shed the tear, 

And ease the aching breast ; 
But Willie felt no throbbing pain, 

As he repeats, " I know 
Dear AUie will come back again, — 

The angels told me so." 
11* 



126 THE ANGELS TOLD ME SO. 

III. 

And as he gazed his eyes grew bright, 

And joy o'erspread his brow, 
As he exclaims, in rapt dehght, 

" O, there is Allie now ! 
I knew he would return to see 

Those he so loved below, 
And be a brother still to me, — 

The angels told me so ! " 



127 



"MEMORY'S LEAVES." 

■ 

MUSIC BY "marie MADWORT." 
I. 

The heart is like a stainless page, 

Ere Time has traced it o'er with care ; 
But every thought that may engage 

Will leave its light or shadow there. 
As moments quickly fly apace, 

And Fate his web unceasing weaves 
Tn lines that we can ne'er deface, 

Each scene is left on " Memory's Leaves" 



II. 
Each soul is b#t a living book, 

With Time's imprint on every part. 
Where but the spirit's eye can look. 

To read the chapters on the heart. 



128 memory's leaves. 

And I have read thine o'er and o'er, 

Till every thought mine own perceives ; 

And, treasured in its inmost core. 

Thy truth is 'graved on " Memory's Leaves'' 

III. 
In every chamber of the mind 

Some picture of the past I see, 
But in remembrance still I find 

The brightest one resembles thee. 
P, there are scenes we would forget. 

O'er which the spirit sadly grieves ; 
But not an hour since first we met 

But glows with love on " Memory's Leaves'' 

IV. 

On every page in memory's folds 

Some dear affection is enshrined, 
Wliich still the heart enchanted holds, 

When years have swept across the mind. 
But when I seek the cherished one 

To wliich my spirit ever cleaves. 
My thoughts still o'er the brightest run, 

To fix on thine in " Memory's Leaves." 



129 



HOME IS WHERE THE HEART IS. 

MUSIC BY "marie MADWORT." 
I. 

I OFFER thee no treasured gold, 

No palace opes the door ; 
My sum of wealth is soonest told, 

I own that I am poor. 
To live in fond affection's shrine 

On earth my only part is, 
But you shall prove, in sharing mine, 

That home is where the heart is. 



II. 
I offer not the love untried, 

Which ardent youth bestows, 
But that which time has sanctified. 

Still deepning as it flows. 



130 HOME IS WHERE THE HEART IS. 

If love like this your heart can bind, 
Though mine a humble part is, 

Come, share my lot, and you shall find 
That home is where the heart is. 

TIT. 

I offer not a home where care 

And pain have never been. 
For grief has often entered there. 

And may return again ; 
But, if affections that will grow, 

Whate'er in life our part is, 
Ai'e what you seek, — then, come and know 

That home is where the heart is. 



131 



THE HORSE AND THE RAILROAD. 

FOR MUSIC. 
I. 

Ha ! HA ! how I welcome the fiery-lunged steed, 

Ab he rushes along with a scream, 
For it leaves me in freedom to bound o'er the mead. 

While they do up their labor by steam. 
No more will the saddle be galling my back, 

As jogging with grist to the mill ; 
No tugging at burdens too heavy to pack. 

When stuck at the foot of the hill. 
Ha ! ha ! how I 'm freed by the fiery-lunged steed, 

As he rushes along with a scream. 
For it leaves me in freedom to bound o'er the mead, 

While they do up their labor by steam. 

II. 
Ha ! ha ! how I welcome the iron-bound road, 
And the laying of cross-tie and beam, 



132 THE HORSE AND THE RAILROAD. 

For it saves me the galling of collar and load, 

"VVliile they do up their labor by steam. 
Away with the plough and the cart ever more, 

To mules such as Dobbin and John ; 
If harnessed at all, 'tis a " full coach and four," 

Filled up with the best of the ton. 
Ha ! ha ! how I neigh as I 'm prancing away, 

When the car rushes by with a scream ; 
For it leaves me in freedom to roam all the day, 

While they do up their labor by steam. 

III. 
Ha ! ha ! I delight in the rushing of trains, 

Though they startle anon with a scream ; 
For they leave me uncurbed by the bit or the reins, 

While they do up their labor by steam. 
Again, as the chargers so famous of old. 

The hero to battle I'll bear ; 
And when his high daring in story is told. 

His glory and honor I '11 share. 
Ha ! ha ! how I 'm freed by the fiery-lunged steed, 

As he rushes along with a scream, 
For it leaves me in freedom to bound o'er the mead. 

While they do up their labor by steam. 



133 



IN THE LIGHT OF THINE EYES. 

MU8IC BY "marie MADWORT." 
I. 

As the star in the skies and the dew on the lea, 
Thus pure is the spirit that slumbers in thee ; 
O waken, sweet lady, and list to my lay, 
For thy smile is the day-star that lightens my way. 
O awake, lady, wake. 

From thy dreaming arise, 

And the dawning will break 

In the light of thme eyes. 



II. 

As the flower in its blooming, the pearl in its shell. 

The thoughts of thy bosom in purity dwell ; 

O wake, gentle lady, and list to my strain. 

For thy love is the link in my destiny's chain. 
12 



134 THE LIGHT OF THINE EYES. 

Then awake, lady, wake, 
From thy dreaming arise, 

And the dawning will break 

In the light of thine eyes. 

• 
III. 

As the life seeks the heart and the needle the pole, 

My spirit has sought thee, thou light of my soul ! 

Then list to me, lady, while stars shine above ; 

My heart will adore thee, unchanged in its love. 

Then awake, lady, wake. 

From thy dreaming arise, 

And the dawning will break 

In the light of thine eyes. 



135 



MY GENTLE LIZZIE'S FAR AWAY. 

FOR MUSIC. 
I 

My gentle Lizzie 's far away, 

'T is long ere I shall meet her ; 
But, in my dreams, and thoughts by day, 

My spirit flies to greet her. 
Though for a time we dwell apart, 

No distance e'er can sever ; 
The love that warms her constant heart 

Will constant be forever. 

II. 

My gentle Lizzie 's far away, 

And I am weary waiting ; 
But, while I chide the long delay, 

One thought is still elating : 



136 MY GENTLE LIZZIE 'S FAR AWAY. 

Though many dreary years shall wane, 
Our wedded hearts to sever, 

Whene'er we fondly meet agaui 
She '11 constant be as ever. 

III. 

My gentle Lizzie 's far away. 

And O ! my heart is yearning 
To hail that ever-welcome day 

That calls for her returning. 
But, till that happy hour I see. 

This thought shall cheer me ever, — 
The love that binds her heart to me 

Will changeless be forever ! 



137 



SILENT LOVE. 



FOR MUSIC. 



I. 

O, COULDST thou know how oft I strove 

My prisoned heart to free, 
By telhng all the wealth of love 

It treasures up for thee, 
Thou wouldst not let me live in fear 

Lest mine should be the lot 
To hear what most I dread to hear, — 

O no, I love thee not ! 



II. 

How oft I gaze upon thy face, 

One ray of hope to gain ; 

But, though each passion-shade I trace, 

Alas, I look in vam ! 
12* 



138 SILENT LOVE. 

Then, till thy smiles shall love betray. 

Let silence be my lot ; 
For O, I ne'er could hear thee say, — 

O no, I love thee not! 



139 



OUR MOTHER'S GRAVE. 

I. 

Our mother sleeps beneath the ground, 

Where many withered flowers are lymg, 
So lately plucked and strewn around, 

With trembling hand and bitter sighing ; 
But, though our hearts from fountains deep 

Pour forth the grief they cannot smother, 
We love to go at eve and weep 

Where thou art sleeping, gentle mother. 

II. 
We Ve made thy grave beneath the tree, 

Where thou didst love to sit at even, 
When fairest flowers were on the lea 

And purple light was in the heaven. 
And now, where once thy feet would rest, 

We often meet to greet each other. 
And strew fresh flowers upon thy breast. 

And? bless again our gentle mother. 



140 OUR mother's grave. 

in. 

We soon must leave the dear old home, 

And wide on earth our paths may sever, 
But, wheresoe'er our steps may roam; 

Oar hearts will mingle here forever ; 
And memory oft will drop the tear, 

And call forth grief we would not smother, 
As we in soul still linger near 

Where thou art sleeping, .gentle mother. 



141 



MINNIE GREY. 

MUSIC BY H. TUCKER, ESQ. 
I. 

Sadly now I make my mourn, 

Breathing forth ray life in sighs ; 
Mary to the grave is borne, 

And my heart is where she lies. 
Softly, freely fall the tears, 

Sadly j)ass the hours away ; 
Nothing now my spirit cheers. 

Since they buried Minnie Grey ! 

II. 
O, the bliss almost divine. 

When her plighted love she gave ; 
Ah, how brief that joy was mine ! 

Flowers now bloom upon her grave. 



142 MINNIE GREY. 

Softly, freely fall the tears, 
Sadly pass the hours away ; 

Nothing now my spirit cheers, 
Since they buried Minnie Grey ! 

III. 
Now my heart with grief is riven, 

Hopeless pass life's sands away ; 
But 't is bliss to know in heaven 

I shall meet sweet Minnie Grey. 
Softly, freely fall the tears, 

Sadly pass the hours away ; 
Nothing now my spmt cheers, 

Since they buried INIinnie Grey ! 



143 



IN BLISS WE SHALL MEET THEE. 

MUSIC BT PKOF. WM. STRIBY. 
I. 

How sad to return to the home where, light-hearted, 
We mingled in pleasures of friendship each year. 

And find from its halls that bright star has departed 
Who once was the light and the life of its sphere. 

II. 
Her form, only granted awhile as a token 

Of love from its Maker, is doomed to decay ; 
Like cloud-wreaths at evening which rude winds 
have broken, 
Her vision-like beauty soon faded away. 

III. 
We hung on her lips as she gave the last greeting, 
And bade her adieu with a tear-moistened eye ; 
Nor thought for one moment 't would be our last 
meeting. 
Till we pass to her own starry home in the sky. 



144 IN BLISS "WE SHALL MEET THEE. 

IV.. 

Though we hear not her song, and beneath her light 
fingers 

The chords of the harp may ne'er thrill to her strain, 
Yet deep in the memory a melody lingers. 

And in its sweet echoes we hear her again. 

V. 

Farewell, dearest one ! thou wert early benighted. 
Ere well thou hadst launched thy frail bark from 
the shore. 
How oft in thy presence we've lingered, delighted, 
To hear those sweet strains that will charm us no 
more. 

VI. 

Yet why should we mourn thee, though parted in 
sorrow. 

Or at the bereavements of heaven complain ? 
But wait for the dawning of that promised morrow, — 

In bliss we shall meet thee, to part ne'er again ! 



145 



O NO, I AM NOT BLIND. 

MUSIC BY W. ,T. HEFFERNAN, ESQ. 
I. 

They tell me that my face is fair, 

And pleasant to behold, 
And oft they stroke my silken hair. 

That falls in many a fold ; 
And then such tender words they speak, 

Indeed, it is so kind ; 
They whisper, as they kiss my cheek, — 

Alas, that she is blind ! 

II. 
I hear the birds in woodland bowers, 

Their forms I may not see ; 
I smell the fragrant vernal flowers. 

How beauteous they must be ! 

13 



146 O NO, I AM NOT BLIND. 

They say the stars shine every night, 

To gladden all mankind ; 
But not one ray breaks on my sight, — 

Alas, that I am blind ! 

m. 
I hear the tread of merry feet. 

But slow my step must be. 
And when the joyous group I meet, 

Their smUes I cannot see ; 
And if I mingle in their plays. 

Anon I 'm sure to find 
I am debarred such sportive ways, — 

Alas, that I am blind ! 

IV. 

Yet deem not that I e'er complain 

That sightless orbs were given. 
For He who formed them thus doth deign 

The purer light of heaven ; 
And though these eyes in darkness roll. 

The visions of the mind 
Like sunlight lie upon the soul, — 

O no, I am not blind ! 



147 



THE GOLDEN RULE. 

MUSIC BY " MARIE. MADWOET." 
I. 

In the. bustle of life, when the truth of the heart 

Is tried by a selfish control^ 
Where, where is a refuge to shield, and impart 

True light to a heaven-born soul ? 
O, pause not to ask what the wisest would do, 

Their wisdom ne'ej found such a gem : 
" All things that ye would men should do unto you, 

Do ye even so unto them." 

II. 

If thou and thy brother have aught to decide, 

And fail at the last to agree. 
Ne'er bring to another thy cause to 'be tried. 

As erring and selfish as he. 



148 THE GOLDEN RULE. 

No, — judge for thyself by this rule, ever true. 
Ere thou dost a brother condemn : 
" All things that ye would men should do unto you, 
Do ye even so unto them." 

III. 
If a dark wave of trouble has swept o'er a soul, 

And a cry has gone forth for relief. 
Ne'er pause ere you give, nor thy charity dole. 

Lest thou add a new pang to the grief. 
Still follow the rule that is changeless and true. 
And ne'er will thy conscience condemn : 
" All things that ye would men should do unto you. 
Do ye even so unto them." 



149 



MOTHER DEAR, GOOD-BY. 

MUSIC BY "marie MADWORT." 
I. 

The hour has come to say farewell, 

And yet we linger near, 
Still loth to break the sacred spell 

Which long has bound us here. 
But, while a choking fills the heart. 

And burning tears each eye, 
Once more, ere we asunder part, 

O mother dear, good-by ! 

II. 
The hour has come when home can be 

A home to us no more ; 
Btit we would linger neai' to thee 

A moment, ere 't is o'er. 



150 MOTHER DEAR, GOOD-BY. 

Once more upon that bosom rest, 
Whose love can never die ; 

Claim one embrace, so long, so blest, — 
Then, mother dear, good-by ! 

III. 
When, at the quiet hour of even, 

Forgetting worldly care. 
Thine eye of faith looks up to heaven, 

Still breathe for us thy prayer. 
Now, w^hile a choking fills the heart, 

And burning tears each eye, 
Once more, ere we asunder part, 

O mother dear, good-by ! 



151 



LOVE'S INTERPRETERS. 

FOR MUSIC. 
I. 

"Tn" Eastern lands tliey talk with flowers," 

In floral speech their loves disclose ; 
They sit at eve 'neath vocal bowers, 

To learn the accents of the rose. 
Arid when no words the heart can free, 

Or tell its pleasure or its pain, 
Aigift of flowers from off the lea 

Interprets all, and makes it plain. 

II. 

Whene'er in words I strive to tell 

The love my heart has garnered long, 

Emotions deep within me swell. 

And choke the utterance of the tongue. 



152 love's interpreters. 

Then, take the simple wreath I twine 
Of vocal flowers from off the lea ; 

The language that they speak is mine, 
Revealing all my soul to thee. 



153 



WAITING FOR THEE AT HOME. 



MUSIC BY "marie MADWORT." 
I. 

With longing and looking to see thee again, 

Our hearts have grown sad, and our eyes dim with 
tears ; 

Each moment you tarry increases the pain 

We Ve felt for the absent, these long, weary years. 

Then come, we are waiting — O, why dost thoif roam, 

When true hearts are longing to welcome thee home .^ 

II. 

When round the loved circle we gather at night, 
We pensively gaze on the vacant old chair; 

For, though thou art wandering and far from our sight, 
That place is held sacred, reserved for thee, there. 

Then come, we are waiting — O, why dost thou roam, 

When loved ones are longing to welcome thee home ? 



154 WAITING FOR THEE AT HOME. 

III. 

Though pleasures may lure thee, and genius may shine, 
Remember the absent still love thee most dear ; 

And O, should misfortune or sorrow be thine, 

The only hearts grieving would grieve for thee here. 

Then come, we are waiting — Q^ cease now to roam, 

And fond hearts most gladly will welcome thee home! 



155 



THE MOTHER'S LAST GREETING. 

I 

We gathered round her lonely bed 

When death was lingering nigh, 
As paiBfiP^IRr her cheek and lip, 

And dim the lustrous eye ; 
But peace was hers, and joy as sweet 

As angels ever knew. 
When she bestowed her parting kiss, 

And sighed her last adieu. 

II. 

Ah, well she knew our trusting hearts, 
And gave back love for love; 

But stronger ties than earth can bind 
Had linked her soul above. 

One earnest, tender look she gave, 
And life's last pang was o'er ; 

But long there Imgered on her lips, — 
"Adieu ! we meet no more ! " 



156 THE mother's last greeting. 

III. 
A calmness settled on her brow, 

Whose light had ceased to burn ; 
And, when we pressed her lips in grief, 

We felt no warm return. 
Yet, as we lingered by her side. 

And wept, a soft refrain 
Like spirit murmurs filled the room, — 
" In heaven we meet again ! " 

IV. 

That last fond greeting, mother, dear, 

We never can forget. 
For thou art living in our hearts 

In saint-hke beauty yet; 
And, though we weep beside thy grave, 

It is a pleasing pain, 
For then we hear that spirit voice. — 
"'In»heaven we meet again!" 



157 



O, WHAT DO THE BIRDS SAY? 

MUSIC BY N. C. MOESB, ESQ. 
I. 

O, WHAT do the birds say, 

In the bright hours of spring, 
As they carol away 

On their joyous wing ? 
Now the winter is over, 

The bleak winds are gone, 
And sweet-scented clover 

Empurples the lawn, 
O, hear what the birds say. 

And breathe it to me : 
Their song is a love lay, — 

E-ral-ee, e-ral-ee. 
Their song is a love lay, 
Erral-ee. 

14 



158 O, WHAT DO THE BIRDS SAY? 

II. 

O, what do the birds say, 

Now summer is past, 
And the forests are gray 

'As they sway to the blast? 
The sweet flowers are blighted. 

The glad days are o'er, 
And scenes that delighted, 

Rebrighten no more. 
O, hjgar what the birds say. 

And breathe it to. me : 
They still sing their love lay, — 

E-ral-ee, e-ral-ee. 
They stiU sing their love lay, 
E-ral-ee. 



159 



THERE IS A WORD WHICH OTHERS SPEAK. 



MUSIC BY VAN DER WEYDB. 
I. 

There is a word which others speak 

As though it were a common word ; 
It brings no paleness to the cheek, 

Nor are the depths of feehng stirred. 
But, when I must pronounce that sound, 

Emotions wildly in me swell, 
For O, my heart receives a woimd. 

Whene'er my lips have said — farewell! 

II. 

That sacred name on trifling lips 
May have an utterance every hour, 

As from their tongues it lightly trips. 
Their hearts unconscious of its power; 



160 THERE IS A WORD WHICH OTHERS SPEAK. 

But o'er my soul it holds a sway, 
That seals my lips as with a spell. 

When called to part, and part for aye, 
'Tis only then I say — farewell! 

III. 
In fashion's gay and heartless throng, 

And where the busy crowds repair, 
That word is often on the tongue, 

As though 'twere meant for utterance there; 
But when my lips must breathe that tone. 

Ere from my tongue its accents fell, 
I 'd seek some place, and there alone 

To those I love, would say — farewell! 



181 



DO NOT TARRY LONG. 



MUSIC BY ''MARIE MADWORT." 
I. 

Though you must go, 't is hard to part, 

Since it will break home's sacred spell ; 
Yet I will chide my aching heart, 

And calmly say, farewell ! 
But, when afar, remember me. 

As other friends around thee throng; 
Think how my heart still cleaves to thee, 

And do not tarry long. 

II. 
When other scenes shall charm thy sight, 

And every hour and thought employ. 
And in a round of gay delight. 

Thou hast thy fill of joy ; 

14* 



1G2 DO NOT TABRY LONG. 

O, let your heart to me return, 
And do not deem it very wrong 

If for thy presence I should yearn ; 
And do not tarry long. 

III. 
Farewell ! I would not bid thee stay, 

When loving hearts are waiting thee ; 
I only crave, where'er you stray, 

That you remember me. 
And if my lonely heart should yearn 

Till grief become intensely strong, 
And I should ask thee to return. 

Then do not tarry long. 



163 



THE FOREST BURIAL. 

MUSIC BY G. APPUNN. 
I. 

Rest thee, loved one! We have laid thee 
Where the wild wood maketh sighs, 

Tears perfume the bed we made thee 
, Where the withered foliage lies. 

Distant from thy native dwelling 
We must chant thy requiem ; 

Few the hearts with sadness swelling, 
Few will join the funeral hymn. 

II. 
On the morrow we must leave thee, 

Lonely in thy woodland grave. 
Where the vine a tomb shall weave thee. 

Creeping where the branches wave. 



164: THE FOREST BURIAL. 

All thy love, let Nature breathe it, 
When the vernal hours return; 

Write thy name with flowers, and wi'eathe it 
Round thy holy forest urn ! 



165 



LITTLE EVA'S VISION* 



MUSIC BY HENRI VASOUVER. 

[" Tom sung the words of a well-known Methodist hymn : 

" ' I see a band of spirits bright, 
That taste the glories there ; 
They all are robccl in spotless white, 
And conquering palms they bear.' 

" ' Uncle Tom, I 've seen them,' said Eva. ' They come to me 
sometimes in my sleep, those spirits ; ' and Eva's eyes grew dreamy, 
and she hummed, in a low voice : 

" ' They all are robed in spotless white, 
And conquering palms they bear.' 

" * Uncle Tom/ said Eva, ' I 'm going there ! ' "] 

I. 
O Tom! I've seen those spirits bright, 

How glorious tliey appear ; 
They come around my bed at night, 

I love to have them near. 

*Uncle Tom's Cabin, Vol, n. p 64. 



166 



For then I see into the skies, 

Where all is bright and fair ; 
And O, no tears can dim the eyes 

Of those who dwell up there. 

II. 
And when in grief I fall asleep, 

Those shining ones are near. 
And whisper, " Eva, do not weep; 

We '11 wipe away each tear." 
And then they sing of heavenly love, 

Till I forget all care; 
They tell me I Ve a home above. 

And soon they '11 take me there ! 

III. 
E'en now, dear Tom, they round me throng. 

In spotless robes of white; 
I hear again their heavenly song, 

And O, what strange delight ! 
Now, now they beckon with their hands. 

And point where all is fair ; 
O, how I long to join those bands, 

And, Tom, I'm going there! 



LITTLE EVA'S VISION. 167 



IV. 

A slumber soft as angels know 

On Eva's spirit lies, 
And dreams too bright for aught below 

Dwell on her raptured eyes. 
She murmurs "all are robed in white, 

And conquering palms they bear; 
In that sweet land there is no night, 

And I am going there ! " 



168 



THE ECHOING HORN. 



MUSIC BY PEOF. T. WOOD. 



I. 

When evening's soft twilight the day-toil is closing, 
And the reaper returns with his wain-load of corn, 

Far o'er the sweet valley in silence reposing 
We hear the full strains of the echoing horn, 
The echoing horn — Oo-le-oo, oo-le-oo. 

II. 

As night in its beauty is calmly advancing, 

And the hum of the village is hushed on the ear, • 

Then o'er the still waters, with echoes entrancing. 
From yon distant hamlet, its mellow notes cheer; 
Its mellow notes cheer — Oo-le-oo, oo-le-oo. 



THE ECHOING HOEN. 169 

III. 
A charm o'er the spirit is tranquilly stealing, 

As I list to the swell of that heart-stirring strain; 
It brings to the bosom a wild gush of feeling, 
And all the bright dreams of my boyhood agam ; 
Sweet echoing horn — Oo-le-oo, oo-le-oo. 
15 



170 



FAR AWAY— FAB AWAY. 



MUSIC BY E. Z. WEBSTEE, ESQ. 
I. 

Far away, far away^ I am wandering with thee, 
O'er desert, and mountain, and dark rolling sea; 
Where'er in the wide world thy lot may be cast 
My spirit goes with thee, and loves to the last. 

.II. 
Far away, far away, wherever thou shalt rove, 
My heart will go with thee, unchanged in its love ; 
The ties that have bound us no distance can rend. 
For hearts that love truly will love to the end. 

III. 

Far away, far away, when others shall smile. 
Remember there 's one who is sad all the while ; 
Wliose spirit was near thee each step thou hast ?traced, 
jas true as when last we so fondly embraced. 



FAR AWAY — FAR AWAY. 171 

IV. 

Far away, far away, if doomed still to rove, 
O, tell me thy heart is unchanged in its love; 
Though distance may sunder, our spirits will blend, 
For hearts loving truly will love to the end. 



172 



THE PRIDE OF MY HEART. 

MUSIC BY WM. DRESSLER, ESQ. 
II. 

When mingling where beauty's enchantment beguiles, 

I feel not its rapture, and cold are its smiles; 

One thought fills my bosom and dwells ever there, — 

With dearest Estelle no one can compare. 

I heed not when music flows sweetly around; 

It falls on my ear, but I hear not the sound, 

For I think of the rapture that song would impart, 

If 'breathed by Estelle, the pride of my heart ! 

III. 
When, toasting the fairest, all join in their praise, 
My lips are still silent, and absent my gaze ; 
O, would she were present, to vie with them there, — 
'T would be to Estelle, the fairest of fair! 



THE PRIDE OF MY HEART. 173 

Though absent, I care not; she's dear to me still; 
No distance can sunder, nor changes e'er chill, — 
For my spirit will cherish till life shall depart, 
My peerless Estelle, the pride of my heart! 
15* 



374 



THE SWING. 

MUSIC BY PROF. JOS. B. SMITH. 
I. 

'Neath the cool and verdant shade, 

On the old oak's giant limb, 
We secure the cords have made, 
All is safe, the balance trim ; 
Swing — swing, 

To and fro. 
On the wing, 
High — low. 
Here — there, 
Undulating thi'ough the air. 

II. 
Beaulpon the cheek will glow, 

Kisses sweet from balmy air. 
Where the swing waves to and fro, 

Let us to its joys repair; 



THE SWING. 175 

Swing — swing^M^ 

To and fro, ^1^ 
On the wing, 

High — low, 

Here — ^^ there, 
Springing through the yielding air. 

III. 
'Tis delightful thus to go ^ 

Gently gliding here and there, ^ 
Hither, thither, to and fro, 
Floating like a bird in air; 
Swing — swing, 

To and fro, 
On the wing. 
High — low. 
Here — there, 
Up and down, — 't is pleasure rare I 



176 



• 



THE CROOKED-NECKED GOURD. 

MUSIC BY E. Z. WEBSTER, ESQ. 

The rich and the noble may spurn a^ght but gold, 

And drink for their pleasure the choicest of wine, 
Or else, for a goblet their dainties to hold, 

May seek for the ore of Potosi's rich mine ; 
But ne'er to my lips will it taste half so sweet, 

From golden, or silver, or crystal when poured. 
As the cool, sparkling drops which my thirsty lips meet. 

Just dipped from the spring, in the crooked-necked 
gourd. 

II. 

The banqueting hall may its riches display. 
And thousands attract to its pleasures again, — 

Its visions of lightness will soon pass away, 
And naught but a sense of deception remain; 



THE CROOKED-NECKED GOURD. 177 

But tlie innocent joys which the heart often felt 
With memor3r's bright pictures are carefully stored ; 

And oft we revert to the time when we knelt, 

And dipped the cool draught with the crooked-necked 
gourd. 

III. 
Though the silver and gold may be pure to the lips, 

No taint to the bright flowing liquid impart, 
While the emblem of truth from the beaker one sips, 

A stain of pollution is left on the heart ; 
But, hung by a string to the moss-covered wall, 

A truth and a pleasure 't will always afford, — 
Be humble, be useful, to one and to all. 

Is the lesson we learn from the crooked-necked gourd. 



178 



THE ESTDIAN'S SONG OF PEACE. 



MUSIC BY W. J. HEFFEMAN, ESQ. 
I. 

I VE plucked the war-plume from my hair, my hair, 
I Ve plucked the war-plume from my hair, 
And wiped from my face 
The last lingering trace 
Of ghastly war-paint that was there, was there, 
Of ghastly war-paint that was there. 

II. 

My bow I have broken in twain, in twain, 
My bow I have broken in twain ; 
My hatchet shall rust. 
And crumble to dust, — 
In wai' I '11 ne'er wield it again, again, 
In war I'll ne'er wield it again. 



THE Indian's song of peace. 179 

III. 
I'll dance with my tribe never more, never mofe, 
I '11 dance with my tribe never more, 
And never again 
Shall scalp of the slain 
Be hung at my belt in its gore, its gore. 
Be hung at my belt in its gore. 

IV. 

No more shall my heart take delight, delight, 
No more shall my heart take delight. 
In causing the stream 
Of sorrow to gleam 
For those I have slain in the fight, the fight, 
For those I have slain in the fight. 



180 



THE COTTAGE OF DAISY BELL. 

MUSIC BY JAS. N. BECK, ESQ. 
I. 

O, COME to my home by tlie green old woods, 

Where the wild flowers blossom and twine, - 
The winds whistle free, and the turtle-dove broods 

In the top of the murmuring pine. 
O, come where the hearth-stone is waiting for thee, 

And love and contentment dwell; 
No place is so bright, since thou sharest with me 

The cottage of Daisy Dell. 

II. 
O, come to my home from the dark, cold world, — 

No longer in weariness rove ; 
But rest, like a dove with her pinions furled 

Ever safe in its haven of love. 



THE COTTAGE OF DAISY DELL. 181 

O, here shall the home of the heart ever be, 

And love and contentment dwell ; 
No place is so dear, since thou sharest with me 

The cottage of Daisy Dell. 
16 



182 



THE MOTHER'S DREAM. 



MUSIC BY "MAEIE MADWOKT." 
I. 

Soft slumber closed a mother's eyes, — 

Her babe was on her breast,- — 
When visions from the opening skies 

Stole on her quiet rest. 
She saw an angel band come down, 

Like clustering stars at even : 
They brought her angel babe a crown, 

Such as they wear in Heaven. 

II. 

Anon they took her little one 

Upon their pearly wings, 
And upward flew, toward the sun, 

While heavenly music rings : 



THE mother's dream. 183 

" Rejoice ! rejoice ! the sinless child 
To our bright ranks is given ! " 
The cherub sweetly on her smiled, 
Then entered into heaven. 

III. 
With speed, upon its path of light. 

That mother darts awaj. 
Till onward in her heavenly flight 

She reached the gates of day. 
And then she heard them sing within, 
" This child to us is given ; 
Nor ask it back to earth and sin. 
But leave it safe in heaven." 

IV. 

Then slumber fled her weeping eyes, — 

The babe was on her breast, 
As fair as when, through opening skies. 

She saw it borne to rest. 
And O, she trembled with delight, 

As kiss on kiss was given. 
Resolved to guide, from that blest night, 

Her angel babe to heaven. 



184 



BE ALWAYS HAPPY. 



MUSIC BY "MABIE MADWORT." 
I. 

A"WAT with your sadness ! 

Let care jog along, 
And innocent gladness 

Still measure your song. 
Wliy burden with sorrow 

Our few fleeting days, 
With thoughts of to-morrow ? 

Be happy always ! 

II. , 

If trials overtake you, 
Yield not to despair; 

Till courage forsake you, 
Each pain you can bear. 



BE ALWAYS HAPPY. 385 

There 's one road to pleasure 

Which ever repays ; 
Wouldst iind out the treasure ? — - 

Be happy always ! 

III. 

Ne'er think the Creator 

Intended the face 
Should wear in each feature 

A sorrowful trace. 
Then mar not its beauty ; 

'T is he that obeys, 
Who holds as a duty, — 

Be happy always ! 
16# 



186 



SAFE AT HOME. 

MUSIC •by "marie madwoet/' 

I. 
I've wandered far, I've wandered lone, 

And many climes have seen, 
But never yet a land have known 

Like my own native green. 
And now my roaming days are o'er, 

And crossed the ocean foam, 
I greet with joy the happy shore 

Which bids me welcome home ! 



II. 
I 've wandered long, I 've wandered free, 

Where court and camp beg-uiled, 
But never yet was place to me 

Like that I left, a child. 



SAFE AT HOME. 187 

My sighings o'er, my perils past, 

I hail my native dome. 
The goal is won ; and I, at last, 

Am safe again at home ! 

III. 
I Ve wandered here, I 've wandered there, 

But never yet could find 
A heart with whom my own could share 

The love I left behind. 
But now my lonely heart 's at rest, 

Nor sighs again to roam ; 
Here friends I meet, the truest, best, 

In my own happy home ! 



THE HAPPIEST PLACE IS HOME. 

MUSIC BY N. BARKER, ESQ. 
I. 

Though others may seek far and wide 

To gain but a moment of bliss, 
Disappointments their footsteps abide, 

In a world full of phantoms as this ; 
But, with loved ones the blessing to share, 

Ah, who would be longing to roam, 
"When taught by the joy tasted there 

That the happiest of places is home ? 

II. 

The world may seem brighter without, 
With the ghtter of tinsel and art, 

And its friendships appear more devout, 
With the semblance of truth to the heart ; 



THE HAPPIEST PLACE IS HOME. 

But SO sweet are the pleasures I share, 
My heart feels no yearning to roam, 

Since nothing on earth can compare 
With the happiest of places, my home ! 

III. 
If sorrow e'er darkens my way. 

Till the heart wear a burden of grief, 
And the friends I have trusted betray 

In the hour when most needing reKef ; 
From the anguish which tortures the mind, 

To my own little heaveii I '11 come. 
In the smiles of my loved ones, to find 

That the happiest of places is home ! 



190 



EACH SIGH THE HEART WILL TREASURE. 



MUSIC BY C. C. HULL, ESQ. 
I. 

Jots are ever swiftly fleeting, 
Griefs are lasting as our years, 

Scarce is felt the bliss of meeting, 
Ere 't is time for parting t6ars : 

Yet each sigh the heart wiU treasure, 

Sweetest source of lasting pleasure. 

II. 
Ours is but a day of sorrow, 

Clouds on every heart have dwelt, 
Hopes depart before the morrow, 

And some keener grief is felt ; 
Yet, from out the darkness streaming, 
Holy light is ever beaming. 



EACH SIGH THE HEART WILL TREASURE. 191 
III. 

Life is but a morning vapor, 
Melting with the dawning ray, 

Or an evanescent taper, 

By its own light burnt away; 

Yet 't is thus the spirit freeing, 

Kadiant with immortal being. 



192 



I THOUGHT OF THEE ONCE. 

I. 
I THOUGHT of thee once as a star brightly beaming 

All peerless and fadeless above, 
Whose light o'er my spirit was radiantly streaming, 
Awaking the thi'illings of love, 
Its earliest thrillings of love. 

II. 

I sat by thee once when the love-light was playing 

From eyes beaming fondly on me. 
And felt that a spell my warm heart was betraying 

To breathe all its passion to thee, 
Its passionate longings to thee. 

III. 
I vowed to thee then, and that word was a token 

Of love that can never decay ; 
IMisfortune may sever, the heart may be broken. 
But never from thee turn away. 
No, never from thee turn away. 



193 



ANGEL WILLIE. 

INSCRIBED TO MRS. J. R. OSGOOD, OP INDIANAPOLIS. 
I. 

Go, lay sweet Willie in the ground, 

Where now the withered flowers are lying, 
And faded leaves are strewn around, 

And sadly autumn winds are sighing. 
But, though thy heart from fountains deep 

Pours forth the grief you may not smother, 
Let Faith make sweet the tears you weep, — 

He lives an angel, gentle mother! 

n. 
Go, make his grave beneath the tree, 
Where you may oft resort at even. 
When summer flowers adorn the lea, 
And evening's purple light the heaven ; 
17 



194 . ANGEL WILLIE. 

But, though thy heart may feel opprest, 
And vain the strife its grief to smother, 

Let Faith still pillow on thy breast 
Thy angel Willie, weeping mother ! 

III. 

Though ne'er again his little feet 

Across the floor will trip so lightly. 
His lips ne'er smile that smiled so sweet, 

Nor his blue eyes resparkle brightly ; 
Yet, oft as memory drops the tear. 

As years shall fail thy gi^ief to smother, 
Look up by faith ; sweet Willie dear 

Is still thy angel, gentle mother I 



195 



CHILD'S PRAYER. 

MUSIC BY "j. H." 
I. 

Alas ! when years were still so brief, 

I scarce coul|| lisp a name, 
My tongue was taught the notes of grief, 

For clouds of sorrow came. 
And now I seek a mother's gi'ave, 

At every eventide ; 
O ! could I have the boon I crave, 

I 'd slumber by her side. 

II. 
I leave the birds that sing so sweet, 

And flowers of richest bloom, 
And all the pleasant friends I meet, 

To weep beside her tomb. 



196 child's prater. 

The earth has many things to love, 
And once I thought them fair, 

But, since my mother dwells above, 
It 's brighter, far, up there. 

III. 
I know they '11 dig a place so deep, 

Down where the willows wave, 
And lay me sweetly there to sleep, 

Close by my mother's gi'ave. 
But yonder, with the spirits blest, 

Her radiant form I #iew: 
O, let me on her bosom rest, 

And be an angel too ! 



197 



FAREWELL TO THE HOME OF MY YOUTH, 

MUSIC BY *' MARIE MADWORT." 
I. 

Farewell to the home of my youth, fare thee well ! 

Though the splendors of others I see, 
No lure shall e'er weaken or sever the spell 

That binds me so closely to thee. 
Still fairest thy landscapes shall be to mine eyes, 

And thy streams purling softly and clear ; 
The stars are the brightest that- glow in thy skies, 

Thy hills and thy valleys most dear. 

II. 

Though humble the lot of the friends dwelling here, 

I shall never find^pthers as true, 
Or those who in memory will hold me as dear. 

When distance shall hide me from view. 

17* 



198 FAREWELL TO THE HOME OF MY YOUTH. 

The dearest that hearth-stone shall be to my heart, 
And the loved who have cherished me there ; 

No others such pleasure can ever impart, 
Or lighten my bosom of care. 

III. 
Farewell, farewell to the home of my youth ! 

Thou art dearer than ever to me ; 
And, though I may wander, my heart in its truth 

Will turn in devotion to thee. 
And fairest thy landscape shall be to mine eyes, 

And thy streams purling softly and clear ; 
The stars are the brightest that glow in thy skies, 

Thy hills and thy valleys most dear ! 



199 



WELCOME, SWEET MAY. 



MUSIC BY W. J, HEFFERMAN, ESQ. 
I. 

She comes like a dream, or a bow on the shower, 
With steps falling lightly as dew on the flower, 
While a voice gushes forth from a thousand glad rills, 
As her spirit-like beauty o'ershadows the hills ; 
The song of the birds, 
The hum of the bee. 
The low of the herds. 
Are welcomes for thee, 
Sweet May, 
Kind welcomes for thee. 

II. 
Sweet anthems of gladness float up on the air. 
Like Hope's silver chimes to the ear of despair, 
Each heart drops its burden and dries up its tear, 
To greet with affection the gem of the year ; 



200 WELCOME, SWEET MAY. 

The bright woodland rmgs, 

The streams murmur free, 
And every note brings 

A welcome for thee, 
Sweet May, 
Love's welcome for thee. 

III. 

With hearts full of gladness to groves now repair 
The merry young maidens, with flower-wreathed hair, 
While Heaven looks down with a smile on the scene, 
As their songs fill the air and their steps print the green ; 
As joyous they sing, 

And trip o'er the lea, 
The welkin doth ring. 
With welcomes for thee. 
Sweet May, 
Kind welcomes for thee. 

IV. 

She comes, like an angel of light from above, 
Wiih beauty, and fragrance, and whispers of love. 
And Nature, entranced with the heaven-born lay. 
Falls asleep in bright dreams on the bosom of May : 



WELCOME, SWEET MAY. 201 

The soft blushing flower. 

The bud on the tree, 
The dew and the shower. 

Breathe welcomes for thee, 
Sweet May, 
Love's welcomes for thee. 



202 



THOSE GOOD OLD DAYS. 

MUSIC BY PROF, IRVING. 
I. 

Our fathers tilled the virgin soil, 
Content with honest thrift and toil, 
And mid improvement ever praise 

Those good old days, 
Those good old days, those happy days 
Of honest thrift and frugal ways, 

Those good old days. 

II. 

The daughters knit, the brothers ploughed. 
They wore homespun, and ne'er grew proud, 
And were so happy that they praise 

Those good old days, 
Those good old days, those happy days 
Of honest thrift and frugal ways. 

Those good old days. 



THOSE GOOD OLD DATS. 203 

III. 

They went to-cliurch and market-place, 
Quite satisfied tvith Dobbin's pace, 
And still prefer to swift railways 

Those good old days, 
Those good old days, those happy days 
Of honest thrift and frugal ways. 

Those good old days. 

IV. 

They strove to help a brother thi^ough, 
Not shave him fii'st, then skin him too ; 
And yet they richer grew always 

In those good old days. 
Those good old days, those happy days 
Of honest thrift and frugal ways, 

Those good old days. 



204 



ONE LITTLE WORD. 

MUSIC BY "MARI3 MABWORT." 
I. 

One little word I've tried to speak, 

But never could for choking, 
Although I 've practised half the week ; 

O dear, 't is so provoking ! 
I know that she must understand 

The word I long to utter, 
For she has felt my trembling hand. 

And seen my bosom flutter. 



II. 
I've often vowed to spoil their fun, — 

They so delight in teasing, — 
By never wedding any one. 

However sweet and pleasing. 



ONE LITTLE WORD. 205 

They will not understand, although 

You hint so very near it ; 
And, when you plainly teU them so, 

They wish again to hear it. 

III. 
I am resolved to try my luck, 

And plainly pop the question. 
For, sure, the word so long has stuck 

It ruins my digestion. 
And, if at first a little shy, 

I 'm sure, with earnest pressing, 
She '11 comprehend me, by and by, 

And ask the parson's blessing. 
18 



206 



AWAKE, GENTLE LADY. 



MUSIC BY " MARIE MADWORT. 
I. 

Awake, gentle lady, bid slumber depart, 

And list to the secret that lies on my heart : 

While flowers drink the dewdrops and spangle the lea, 

I come by the moonlight to breathe it to thee. 

Then wake, gentle lady, bid slumber depart; 

I '11 tell you the secret that lies on my heart. 



II. 

Awake, gentle lady, from visions of light. 
And list, — I 've a secret to tell you to-night : 
While streams murmur softly, and stars shine above, 
I come by the moonlight to whisper my love. 
Then wake, gentle lady, let dreams take their flight; 
I '11 te^ you a secret worth hearing to-night. 



AWAKE, GENTLE LADY. 207 



III. 



Awake, gentle lady, and give me a sign, 
To tell if my secret you well can divine : 
While night sleepeth cahnly in beauty, as now, 
I come by the moonlight to plight thee thy vow 
Then wake, gentle lady, and give me a sign. 
If thou hast a secret to whisper, like mine. 



208 



'TIS VAIN TO HOPE. 

MUSIC BY W. H. CUEEIE, ESQ. 
I. 

O, COULD ST tliou know the wealth of love 

My heart has treasured up for thee, 
Thou wouldst not ask for time to prove 

How deep and boundless 't is, and free. 
Then let some word my spirit cheer. 

Nor doom me to a hopeless lot, 
In those sad words my fate to hear, — 

'T is vain to hope ; I love you not. 

III. 

My love has grown through weary years, 
And fed its strength on each delay ; 

O, then, why longer cherish fears 
That it may change or pass away ? 



TIS VAIN TO HOPE. . 209 

Then make me blest, nor by a word. 

Which, spoken once, is ne'er forgot 
By one whose soul has ever heard, — 

'Tis vain to hope; I love you not. 

18* 



210 



THE FIRST ROSE OF SPRING-TBIE. 

MUSIC BY "MAEIE MADWORT." 
T. 

'T IS the first rose of spring-time, 

Reblooming again, 
Where the last rose of autumn 

"Was strown on the plain. 
Though no fair one around her 

Awakes from repose. 
She unfolds all her petals. 

And blushes, — a rose. 

II. 

Soon each bud of the garden 

As brightly will bloom, 
In beauty as perfect. 

As rich in perfume ; 



THE FIRST ROSE OF SPRING-TIME. 211 

When forsaken and withered 

This sweet rose will lie, 
The first one to blossom, 

And soonest to die. 

III. 
Since a doom thus awaits thee, 

If left here to pine, 
I '11 pluck thee, fair floweret, 

Ere the sad fate is thine ; 
And here on my bosom 

Will give thee repose, 
And cherish, when faded. 

The first blooming rose. 



212 



HAPPY DREAMS OF HOME. 



MUSIC BY "marie MADWOET. 



Whene'er I sleep, and dream of home, 
O, then my heart is pining 

Its happy vales again to roam, 
And view its waters shining: 
I sleep and dream of home ! 



I wander through each pleasant gi'ove. 
And hear the wild birds singing, 

Where oft the witching smiles of love 
A spell was round me flinging : 
O, bliss to dream of home ! . 



HAPPY DREAMS OF HOME. 21o 



III. 

I seek the well-known trysting tree, 
That dear old place of meeting, 

Where oft I sat, till o'er the lea 
The evening shades were fleeting : 
O, happy dreams of home ! 

IV. 

Thus, when I sleep, and dream of home, 
Its hght again I borrow ; 

And, though I wake, afar to roam, 
It lightens half my sorrow 
To sleep and dream of home ! 



2U 



RETURN OF THE ROBIN. 

MUSIC BY " MARIE MADWOKT." 
I. 

Thou hast been to a sunny clime, 

Far, far away. 
Where comes ne'er bleak winter-time, 

Frosting the spray. 
O'er fields ever green and fair. 

There thou couldst roam; 
And yet thou wert pining there, 

Pining for home. 

II. 
Though bright in that spicy land 

Glow rarest flowers, 
And come with the breezes bland 

Sweet-scented showers. 



RETURN OF THE ROBIN. 215 

Thy heart sought the azure hills 

Skirting thy home, 
Where leap the wild mountaui rills, 

Sparkling with foam. 

III. 
A glad welcome home again ! 

Sweet be thy song. 
As free o'er thy native plain 

Ghding along. 
O, come build thy mossy nest 

Here on the spray, 
And, safe in thy downy rest, 

Carol away! 



216 



EVENING ECHOES. 

MUSIC BY C. C. HULL, ESQ. 
I. 

As evening's purple shadows darken 

On the lea, 
The silvery echoes mingle — harken ! 

Full and free. 
The mountains sing, and vales reclining 

In repose. 
And brooklets murmur, ever shining 

To their close. 
Echoes, evening echoes, 
Echoes, sweet evening echoes. 

n. 
The vesper horn is softly blending, 

Far away, 
Its tones of melting sweetness ending 

With the day. 



EVENING ECHOES. 217 

Ai'ound, above, like angel voices 

On the ear, 
The harmony of eve rejoices, 
Sweetly clear. 
Echoes, evening echoes, 
Echoes, sweet evenmg echoes, 

19 



218 



KATY'S RESPONSE TO THE KATYDID, 



FOR MUSIC. 



You saucy insect ! well you know, 

'T is only out of spite, 
Because I would not praise the song 

You sung the other night. 
I wonder not, you tattle so, 

You keep securely hid, — 
I meet a man alone at night ! 

You know I never did. 

II. 
When sitting in my moonlit bower, 

I 've heard you chirrup long, 
But never could appreciate 

The music of youi' song. 



KATr'S RESPONSE TO THE KATYDID. 219 

Now, out of spite, where'er you go, 

Around and over head, 
I hear you cry, with all your might, 

And tell what " Katy did." 



III. 
I wandered forth to take the air, 

The moonlight was so sweet, 
And just beside the rosy bower 

We only chanced to meet. 
My shawl he offered to adjust. 

Which from my shoulder slid, — 
He put his arm around my waist ! 

Indeed, he never did. 



IV. 

T is true, he talked of nectared flowers 

The bee so fondly sips. 
And then, to show the pleasant taste, 

He barely pressed my lips. 
And just because I did not frown, 

I thus am rudely chid, — 
As though I let hun kiss me there ! 

I never, never did. 



220 KATY*S RESPONSE TO THE KATYDID. 

V. 

Did you not promise solemnly, 

Whatever you might hear, 
You'd keep my tender secret safe 

From every mortal ear ? 
But now you fly all o'er the town, 

And, in some treetop hid. 
You call to every passer-by 

To hear what " Katy did." 

VI. 

But do not think I '11 cease to roam 

At midnight's silent hour, 
Nor frown, if one I chance to meet 

Close by the rosy bower. 
And you may listen to my words. 

If there securely hid, — 
None will believe you, though you tell 

Exactly what I did. 



221 



JACOB GETS THE MITTEN. 

MUSIC BY "W. WALLACE. 
I. 

I THANK you, Mister Jacob, but I 'm not inclined to go, 
Your wagon is so clumsy, and your team so very slow ; 
And, though 't would make you happy were I seated by 

your side, 
To go in such a "turn-out" would be shocking to my 
pride. 

To ride in a wagon, 
An old rusty wagon, 
A squeaking lumber-wagon, 

'T would be shocking to my pride ; 
Beside, a jolting wagon 
I never could abide. 

II. 
Perhaps you may consider that I 'm very hard to please, 
But I can ne'er be happy in a dairy, making cheese ; 
19=^ 



222 JACOB GETS THE MITTEN. 

So keep your little farm-house, and just go and mind 

your plou^, — 
I 'm sure I can do better than consent to milk your cow ; 
And ride in a wagon, 
An old rusty wagon, 
A squeaking lumber-wagon. 

With horses from the plough. 
To think of such a wagon, 
It mortifies me now ! 

Old Mike was not so stingy, when he asked me for his 

bride, 
As to bring a clumsy wagon and invite me out to ride ; 
And, though he 's not so handsome as I know you deem 

yourself, 
I think him quite acceptable, especially — " his pelf ! " 
I '11 ride in a carriage, 
A fine gilded carriage, 
An easy-cushioned carriage. 
And own it all myself ; — 
I '11 not decline a marriage 

With old Mike and — " all his pelf ! " 



223 



THE LITTLE RED SHOES. 

MUSIC BY "marie MADWORT." 
I. 

The cradle is empty, 

The toys are laid by, 
As treasures of memory, 

Too precious to die ; 
But when a memento 

From all I would choose, 
Most dearly I cherish 

These little red shoes. 

II. 

O, these were her treasures. 
Her joy and her pride, — 

The last that she played with 
On earth, ere she died. 



224 THE LITTLE RED SHOES. 

And now, sad and lonely. 
My spirit bedews 

With teai's of affection 
These little red shoes. 

III. 
No music was sweeter 

Than when, at my call, 
Her little feet pattered 

In soft muffled fall. 
And oft, when in sadness 

I pensively muse, 
I hear the soft echo 

Of these little shoes. 

IV. 

O, chide not a mother, 

For holding most dear 
What must a mere trifle 

To others appear ; 
For she was my darling, 

And can I refuse 
To cherish thus dearly 

These little red shoes ? 



225 



BLESSED ARE THEY THAT MOURN. 

MUSIC BY "MARIE MADWOET." 
I. 

There are moments that come, in their sombre array, 

Like thoughts of the shroud and the tomb. 
When the light from the eye and the cheek fades away. 

And sets in the night of their gloom. 
Less joyous, 't is true, for a time may appear 

These hours of affliction and pain. 
Than the "daughters of music," whose songs charm the ear 

Like the Syren's bewildering strain; 
But O, to the mourning these shadows of night 

Bring joys that forbid them to pine. 
For they see through the darkness the dawn of that light 

Which glows with a radiance divine ! 

II. 
There 's a beam still remaining when darkness is near. 

More beauteous than that of the noon, — 
'T is night ere the stars in their brightness appear. 

And the billow embraces the moon. 



226 BLESSED ARE THEY THAT MOURN. 

A melody lingers awhile in the sky, 

"When the shock of the thunder is o'er, 
And the wave leaves a murmur of music on high, 

As it breaks and recedes from the shore. 
And thus every sorrow, howe'er it may pain, 

Brings a joy that forbids us to pine ; 
And the harp struck to sadness awakens a strain 

That thrills to a rapture divine ! 



227 



LITTLE ROSY CHEEKS. 



MUSIC BY "MARIE MADWORT." 
I. 

Little fairy elfs are these, 

With curly hair and jetty, 
Dimpled chins, and lips that smile 

So witchingly and pretty. 
Full of mischief, romping free, 

Yet innocent in pleasure ; 
Little, ruddy, rosy cheeks, 

My dearest earthly treasure I 

II. 

Little buds of care are these, 
Oft blighted ere the blooming ; 

Nurslings of our prayers and tears, 
Still angels in the loommor. 



228 LITTLE ROSY CHEEKS. 

Teasing ever, teasing all, 

Yet who would from them sever ? 

Little, ruddy, rosy cheeks, 
My dearest treasures ever ! 

III. 
Angels of our homes are these, 

Ere yet their wings are given. 
Blooming with the light and love 

Of their own native heaven. 
Objects of our anxious thoughts, 

The source of pain or pleasure ; 
Little, ruddy, rosy cheeks, 

My dearest earthly treasure ! 



229 



THE FAMILY ALTAR. 

MUSIC BY " MARIE MADWORT." 
I. 

It is a place of sure relief, 

Where mourners' tears are dried, 
Where sweetness mingles in our grief, 

And peace and joy abide. 
We gather there with humble hearts, 

And bless, from day to day. 
The grace and love that thus imparts 

An altar where to pray. 

II. 

A father's reverend form is there, 

A mother's quiet grace. 
And brothers, sisters, fondly share 

The blessings of the place. 

20 



230 THE FAMILY ALTAR. 

At morning's rise, at evening's close, 
We bow with one accord, 

And ever richer mercy flows 
In answers from the Lord. 

III. 

Support it gives to weary years, 

And strengthens man for toil ; 
'T is youth's protection, when appears 

The tempter's fatal coil. 
Whene'er we gather round the hearth, 

Our daily thanks to pay, 
'T is still the dearest spot of earth, 

The altar where we pray ! 



231 



THE BRIDE'S SACRIFICE. 

I. 

I LOVE the blissflil month of May, 

When opening buds reveal the flowers ; 
And all around, melodiously. 

The wild birds sing in vernal bowers. 
For O, it brings the cherished hour 

When thou didst breathe thy vows to me, 
And fondly lean upon that breast 

Which yields up all its wealth to thee. 

II. 

Then, when a tear-drop dewed thy cheek, 

And ghstened, pearl-Hke, in thuie eye, 
And from thy pale and trembling lips 

Fell one regret and parting sigh, 
I did not chide that thou didst weep. 

And to the past give one more tear ; 
Ah, well I knew the sacrifice 

To sunder ties to thee so dear! 



232 THE bride's sacrifice. 

III. 
But when tliy hand was placed in mine, 

And fervently thy vows were given, 
O, then that sigh from off thy lips 

Was, with the tear-drop, borne to heaven. 
There He, who ever deigns to bless, 

When guileless love implores his aid, 
Received the incense of thy vows, 

And bade thy trembling heart be stayed. 

IV. 

Should we live on through many years, 

And all around look dark and drear. 
In thee I know I still shall find 

A changeless love, a soul sincere. 
And this, in darkest scenes of life, 

Shall be to me a solace nigh, 
To soothe the grief which rends the heart. 

And wipe the tear-drops from the eye 



233 



O, THOU DARK RESERVOIR. 

I. 

O, THOU dark reservoir ! to thee 
Poet and sage have bowed the knee, 
And, with thy ebon-flood, have sought 
To bind the airy wings of thought. 
And when, obedient to his will. 
Thou trinklest from the poet's quill, 
Mysteriously thy drops of night 
Gleam with the purest rays of light. 

.II. 
With thee he pamts the gorgeous ray 
Which melts along the verge of day ; 
Or, mellowed down to softer light. 
The moon and twinkling waves of night. 
Another touch, and every star. 
Like glimpse of angels, distant far. 
From out thy midnight burst to shine : 
Mysterious Ink, what power is thine ! 

20^ 



234 O, THOU DARK RESERVOIR. 

III. 

The fairest flowers beneath thy trace 
Glow on the eye with richer grace, 
And o'er the landscape's brightest scene 
Thy spirit sheds a fresher gi-een. 
The varied hues of Autumn's hour 
Blush deeper tints beneath thy power, 
And Winter's dazzling plains of snow 
Receive, new lustre from thy flow, 

IV. 

The Poet, doomed to beg for bread 

Where'er his wandering footsteps led. 

Yet all the while he di*ew from thee 

The wealth of immortality ! 

Earth's proudest kings have passed awa}"-. 

Their rock-hewn tombs have met decay; 

But brighter on the rolls of fame 

Still shines that " beggar Poet's " name ! 

V. 

The Bard, with eyes of rayless sight, 
From out thy darkness drew the light ; 
And, while the earth was all unseen, 
He pierced the skies with vision keen. 



O, THOU DARK RESERVOIR. 235 

And caught the strains which angels sing ! 
And evermore his praise shall ring ; 
While to the world's admiring eyes 
Shall glow, « Regained," " Lost Paradise ! " 

VI. 

Let others dig for golden ore, 

Or 'neath the waves for pearls explore ; * 

Aspire to fame and high renown. 

And wade through blood to grasp a crown ; 

But, while I have the power to fill 

From thy dark fount my "gray goose quill," 

I '11 seek my honor, wealth, in thee, 

And live content with destiny ! 



23G 



LITTLE KATY'S CRY. 

I. 

In the streets of New York city 

Poor Katy sat alone, 
Singing o'er her plaintive ditty 

With soft and pensive tone. 
Ever were her teardrops falling, 

As, hungry and forlorn. 
She to thoughtless crowds was calling, 
" O, here 's your nice hot corn ! " 

II. 
When the night was dark and dreary, 

The lonely passer-by 
Heard poor Katy, cold and weary. 

Repeat her daily cry. 
There she sat, with none to pity. 

At night and dewy morn, 
Conning o'er her cheerless ditty, — 
" O, here 's your nice hot corn ! " 



LITTLE KATY's CRY. 237 

III. 

Still the crowd along is hieing, 

As thoughtless as before, 
But they hear not Katy's sighing, 

She cries " hot corn " no more. 
But, where angel-throngs are gloAving, 

A harp to her is given. 
And she sings, no sorrow knowing. 

Close by the gates of heaven ! 



238 



THE STRAWBERRY GIRL. 

I. 

When famine was wasting the loved ones at home, 

Forsaken by friendships that falsely had smiled, 
An angel passed by every proud-gilded dome, 

And dwelt with the lowly, — a beautiful child. 
Intent on her mission of mercy and love. 

She grieved not when lips of the haughty would curl ; 
For spirit more pure was ne'er sent from above 

Than sweet little Julia, the strawberry girl. 

11. 
With baskets of berries all blushing and red, 

With violets and rosebuds still wet with the dew, 
She bounds on her errand with fauy-like tread ; 

Now caroUing free, and now shrinking from view. 
The rose tint returns to the pale, wasted cheek, 

Hope brightens the eye 'neath the lash's dark curl. 
While love yields its strength to the heart that was weak, 

And guides all the steps of the strawberry girl. 



THE STRAWBERRY GIRL. 239 

III. 

'.''he tempter in vain spread his snare for her feet, 

The angel of purity dwells in her heart ; 
And e'er to the erring her chidings were sweet ; 

The poor blest her oft, as she rose to depart. 
So gentle and winning, so sweet was her cry, 

The frown left the brow of the cold-hearted churl ; 
And many her rosebuds and berries would buy. 

To win but a smile from the strawberry girl. 

IV. 

A bridal is grouping the gay-lighted hall, 

And every heart bounds in the happiest mood ; 
And blest is that bridegroom, the envy of all. 

For bride that was fairer was never yet wooed. 
But who, in that brightest array of the fair. 

All glowing with jewels and richest of pearl. 
In beauty and form was the peerless one there ? 

'T was sweet little Julia, the strawberry girl. 



240 



WE'LL KEEP THE BIBLE FREE. 



WRITTEN FOR A FOURTH OF JULY SABBATH-SCHOOL FESTIVAL. 

I. 

Once more, with hallowed feeling, 

We join the blest employ, 
Our nation's praises pealing 

Li songs of festive joy. 
And back the loud hosanna 

Shall roll from sea to sea, 
Till mountain and savanna 

Re-echo, — " We are free ! " 

II. 
We love the Book which lighted 

The glow of patriot fires. 
When freedom was benighted. 

In the bosoms of our sires. 



we'll keep the bible free. 241 

They shed their blood to save us, 

And gained our liberty ; 
But the greatest boon they gave us, 

They made the Bible free! 

III. 
Where'er its light is beaming 

The path that man may roam. 
There Truth is ever gleaming. 

And Freedom finds a home ; 
But where it is denied him, 

Oppression bends the knee ; 
Without its light to guide him, 

Man never can be free ! 

IV. 

Our land is Virtue's dwelling. 

Here Science builds hel" shrine, 
And happy hearts are swelling 

With joys almost divine. 
And we, in emulation. 

Here pledge ourselves to be 
The guardians of our nation, — 

We 'II keep the Bible free ! ^ 

21 



242 we'll keep the bible feef« 

V. 

Then come, with hallowed feeling, 

Join in the blest employ, — 
Our nation's praises pealing, 

In songs of festive joy, 
THl baqk the loud hosanna . 

Shall swell from sea to sea, 
From mountain and savanna, — 

Well keep the Bible free/ 



243 



DEDICATION HYMN. 

I. 

The Church, to wayworn pilgrims here, 
When sin-beset and tempest-driven, 

A Bethel stands, with heavenly cheer, — 
The house of God and gate of heaven. 

n. 
It is the bulwark of our land. 

When strongest hands and hearts shall fail ; 
While Zion's towers unmoved shall stand. 

No arm can smite nor foe prevail. 

in. 
Within its courts the heart and mind, 

By nature dull and sin impure. 
From all their dross and guilt refined, 

That wisdom gain which must endure. 



244 DEDICATION HYMN. 

IV. 

'T is here the heart a centre finds 
For friendships pure as those above ; 

A holy peace, that ne'er declines ; 
A union, strong as endless love. 

V. 

With gratitude we bless the Lord, 
For all the wonders grace displays, 

And here erect, with one accord, 
An Ebenezer to his praise. 

VI. 

'T is here the mourner finds a balm, 
A refiige safe from every fear, 

And feels within an endless calm, 
Hope sanctifying every tear. 

VII. 

When snares beset the path of youth. 
Its walls become a sm-e defence ; 

The heart well armed with holy truth, 
The strongest foe is driven thence. 



DEDICATION HYMN. 246 

VIII. 

O God, thy house shall ever be 

A refuge for the tempest-driven ; 
And those who seek thy courts shall see 

The opening pearly gates of heaven I 

21# 



246 



DEDICATION HYMN. 

I. 

When Jesus, moved with pity, 

On mercy's errand came, 
He sougM the teeming city, 

His gospel to proclaim. 
And when, his oiBfer spurning 

With cold and stubborn will, 
O'er erring thousands yearning. 

He loved the city still. 

II. 

And when, his heralds sending 

His precious word to teach. 
Where crowd with crowd was blending, 

He bade them first go preach. • 

And if the word unheeding. 

That city doomed should be. 
Yet they, to others speeding. 

Proclaimed salvation free. 



DEDICATION HYMN. 247 

III. 

Where funeral bells are pealing, 

Unceasing, day by day, 
And death is ever stealing 

The unprepared away ; 
Ere all the thousands perish, 

Let Zion's walls arise, 
Where truth may win, and cherish, 

And lead them to the skies. 

IV. 

Where sin is ever boldest 

To snare the youthful heart. 
And love and truth grow coldest, 

And virtues soon depart. 
There build Jehovah's altar ; 

And may its courts be trod 
'By thousands, when they falter, 

And win them back to God. 

V. 

Where restless man for treasures 

Plies each seductive art, 
Intent on empty pleasures 

Which but pollute the heart. 



^48 DEDICATION HYMN. 

There let the joys be tasted 
Which Zion's courts insure, 

By time nor death e'er wasted, 
Eternal, full and pure ! 

VI. 

Great God, thy name adoring, 

We consecrate to-day 
This house to thee, imploring 

Thy spirit's cheering ray. 
And when thy truth proclaiming, 

Be thou forever near. 
The city's crowds reclaiming, 

To swell thy praises here. 



249 



I KNEW YOU WOULD MISS ME. 



FOR MUSIC. 
I. 

Dear Mary, I have wandered 

For many weary years, 
And every step have pondered, 

In sadness and in tears. 
This only thought was cheering, 

And kept my spirit free ; 
Each passing hour was nearing 

The bKss of meeting thee ! 
And now, the hour arriven. 

Back to thy arms I come, 
To find on earth a heaven, 

In thy sweet welcome home. 



250 I KNEW YOU WOULD MISS ME. 

n. 
I knew that you would miss me, 

When wandering from thy sight ; 
The children, who would kiss me 

Ere they would say, " Good night I ' 
This only thought, elating. 

Has eased my years of pain ; 
Each hour of patient waiting 

But neared those joys again. 
And now the bliss is given, 

Back to thy arms I come ; 
And O, 't is surely heaven, — 

This happy welcome home ! 

III. 
I saw the light was burning, 

When turning up the lane, 
And knew that you were yeamir* 

To welcome me again. 
One thought was all my being. 

The blissful hour was near : 
To Mary's arms I 'm fleeing, • — 

Again, again I 'm here ! 



I KNEW YOU WOULD MISS ME. 251 

The wanderer, tempest-driven, 

Returns, no more to roam, 
To rest in this sweet heaven, 

My own dear Mary's home ! 



252 



FIRESIDE JEWELS. 

MTJSIC BT ''marie MADWORT." 
I. 

Deakest of the joys of earth, 

Gathered in their places, 
Are the jewels of the hearth, 
Set in love's embraces. 
A father's cheer, 
A mother's tear, 
A sister's guileless spirit, 
A brother's heart, — 
These all impart 
The treasures we inherit. 
Thus, the dearest joys of earth, 

Gathered in their places. 
Are the jewels of the hearth, 
Set in love's embraces. 

II. 

Brightest of the gems of earth, 
Gathered in their places. 

Are the jewels of the hearth. 
Set in love's embraces. 



FIRESIDE JEWELS. 253 

Sweet rosy cheeks, 
And guileless freaks, 
Eyes sparkling with emotion, 
And little feet 
Which run to greet 
A parent's fond devotion; — 
Thus £he brighest gems of earth, 

Gathered to their places, 
Are the jewels of the hearth, 
vSet in love's embraces. 

22 



254 



THOSE BYGONE DAYS. 



MUSIC BY "MARIE MAPWOBT. 



Those bygone days, those bygone days, 
How tenderly their memory plays 
Around the heart, awaking tears 
For those beloved in other years. 
Each passing hour has left a trace 
No flight of time can e'er erase. 



Those bygone days, those bygone days, 
Their memory still the spirit sways, 
As slumbering scenes revive again. 
Each hour of joy, or thrill of pain. 
No waste of time nor years' decay 
Will bear them from the heart away. 



THOSE BYGONE DAYS. 256 

III. 

Those bygone days, those bygone days, 
All else may change as time decays ; 
But from the heart can ne'er remove 
The memories of our early love. 
Each ebbing year, or added care, 
But leaves them deeper graven there ! 



EUTIT: 

A SACRED CANTATA 



IN TWO PARTS. 



CHARACTERS INTRODUCED. 

BoAZ, A Prince of Judah. 

Naomi, A Widow of Betldehem. 

Ruth, A MoaUtess, and Daughter-in-laio to Naomi. 

Orpah, The same. 

Bethlehemites, Reapers, Maidens, etc. 

Scenes — Partly in Moah, and near Bethlehem, in Judea. 

(257) 



258 

PART FIRST. 

^ Scene in the country of Moab. 
Solo. — Naomi. 

Alas ! what heavy griefs I Ve borne, 

And bitter tears have shed, 
For husband, children, from me torn, 

And numbered with the dead. 
From Moab's idol fanes I turn, 

To dry my widow's tears. 
Where Israel's holy altars bum, 

And Abraham's God appears. 
And O, my heart revives again, 

For Zion's land is blest. 
And to my native Bethlehem plain • 

My soul returns to rest. 

Trio. — Naomi, Orpah, and Ruth. 

Naomi. 
Return, my daughters, to the home 

Where yet a mother's love endears, 
Nor follow in the path I roam, 

For it is darkened still with tears. 



RUTH. 259 

Orpah and Ruth. 
Ah, surely we will go with thee, 
And with thy people ever live. 

Naomi. 
Return, return ; why follow me ? 
Nor joys have I, nor sons to give. 

In unison. 
Ah, surely we will go with thee. 
And with thy people ever live. 
Return, return ; why follow me ? 
Nor joys have I, nor sons to give. 

(Orpah leaves the stage.) 

Naomi. 
Thy sister to her people goes ; 
Return, nor share my bitter woes. 

Solo. — Ruth. 

I. 

Entreat me not to leave thee, 

Nor to return again ; 
Where'er thou goest I will go, 
And evennore remain. 



260 



RUTH. 



I '11 lodge where'er thou lodgest, 
Thy people shall be mine ; 

I '11 serve thy God forevermore, 
And bow to none but thine. 



II. 

I '11 die where'er thou diest, 

And buried there will be ; 
And naught but death shall e'er divide 

My constant heart from thee. 
Intreat me not to leave thee. 

Nor to return again ; 
Where'er thou goest I will go, 

And evermore remain. 

Scene changes to Bethlehem. 
Chorus. — Bethlehemites. 

Ah, is this Naomi ? We welcome thee home ; 

The land of thy fathers receives thee again ; 
Thus greet we the exile, when, ceasing to roam, 

She turns with delight to her loved Bethlehem. 



RUTH. 261 

Solo. — Naomi. 

I. 
0, call me not Naomi now, 

But henceforth let it Mara be, 
For God hath darkened all my yeans, 

And bitterly hath dealt with me. 

II. 
I went out full, but to your gates 

I now return with empty hand. 
To sleep where all my fathers sleep. 

By Bethlehem's walls, in Judah's land. 

III. 
Then call me not Naomi more, 

But henceforth let it Mara be , 
For God's afflictions have been sore, 

And bitter all his ways to me. 

Choru s . — Reapers . 

I. 
Away, away to the harvest field. 

Away in the morning early. 
And to our sickles soon shall yield 

The golden sheaves of barley. 



*62 RUTH. 

II. 

Rejoice, rejoice, for the Lord is kind, 
Again to bless our tilling ; 

And now the ripened sheaves we bind, 
Our empty garners filling. 



PART SECOND. 

Recitative and Air. — Ruth. 

Recitative. 
" Let me now go to the field, and glean ears of corn after 
him in whose sight I shall find grace." 

Air. 
Though the maids of Ephratah are fair to the eye, 

And pure as the pearl in the sea, 
I'll go where the reapers of Judah pass by, — 

Some heart will turn kindly to me. 
Then let me now go where they bind up the corn, 

Though kindred and friends I have none ; 
And, modestly gleaning, a stranger forlorn, 

Some true heart of Judah is won. 



RUTH. 263 

Solo. — Boaz. 
I. 
Whose damsel is this coming lonely to glean ? 

No daughter of Judah is she ; 
Yet fair as the fairest, and modest of mien, 
Is the maiden of Moab to me. 

II. 

Ah, harken, my reapers ! rebuke not the maid. 
Though gleaning the thick-standing sheaves ; 

But let her go free where your handfuls are laid, 
Till laden at evenuig she leaves. 

III. 
Ah, why does her presence such pleasure impart ? 

No daughter of Judah is she ; 
Yet dear as the life and the light of my heart 

Is the maiden of Moab to me. 

Duet. — Boaz and Ruth. 
Boaz. 
O, hearest thou, my daughter ? 

Go not to glean elsewhere, 
But keep by yonder maidens, 
And of their dainties share. 



264 RUTH. 

Ituth. 
I come to thee a stranger ; 

And have I yet found grace, 
To be thus kindly greeted, 

Though of a hated race ? 

Boaz. 
It fully hath been told me, 

What kindness thou hast shown 
Unto thy widowed mother, 

When desolate and lone ; 
And thou hast left thy father 

And native land for aye. 
To dwell among my people ; 

And God will thee repay. 

Euth. 
O, let me still find favor, 

And give thy friendly aid ; 
Thy words have greatly cheered me, 

A lonely Moab maid. 

Boaz. 
Thy goodness hath been shown me ; 

Ruth. 
O, have I then found grace ? 



RUTH. 265 

Boaz. 
Ay, and I am proud to own thee, 
Before all Judali's race. 

Both. 
No more, no more our hearts shall rove, 

For we have found the sought-for gaol ; 
And, happy now in mutual love. 

Sweet peace and joy shall fill the soul. 

Chokus. — Maidens and Reapers. 
Maidens. 
Glean we the fields, merry, merry maidens, 
Glean we the fields where the reapers go ; 

Reapers. 
"Welcome, O welcome, ye merry, merry maidens, 
Join in the song which the reapers know. 

All. 
Kipe is the harvest, waving golden ; 

Bind up the sheaves of the bearded corn ; 
Sing as our fathers sung of olden. 

When the barley fields were shorn. 
Sing, O sing, as they sung of olden. 

When the barley, fields were shorn. 

23 



266 RUTH. 

Recitative and Air. — Boaz. 
Recitative. 
" Blessed be thou of the Lord ; I will do unto 
thee all that thou requirest ; for all my people 
know thy virtue." 

Air. 
I. 

A stranger you come to my forefathers* halls, 

Untrod by a Gentile till now ; 
But fear not to enter ; my people know all, — 

None fairer or purer than thou. 

n. 

The mercies of heaven no birthright can claim; 

To the pure of all lands they are free ; 
And none to the altar of God ever came 

More pure than the spirit in thee. 

Grand Final Chorus. — Boaz, Ruth, and People. 

. People. 
O, blessed be the pious house 
Where Ruth and Boaz dwell ; 

Boaz and Ruth. 
We are blessed of the Lord ! 



RUTH. 267 

People. 
We bless you in Epliratah's gates, 
And be ye blest in Israel. 

Boaz and Ruth. 
"We are blessed of the Lord ! 

All. 
O, let us bless the Lord our God ; 

His goodness through the earth proclaim ; 
For here shall blossom Jesse's rod ; 

Our Shiloah comes to Bethlehem. 
O, let us bless the Lord, — Amen! 



268 



SUSPENSE. 

I. 

When all is known, the darkest fate 

The smitten heart may learn to bear, 
And feel, when time cannot abate, 

The settled calmness of despair ; 
But who can well endure the grief 

Which knows no refuge or defence, 
That age of pain in moments brief, — 

The untold anguish of suspense ! 

II. 

When once the first rud6 shock is past, 

The heart may still the storm outride. 
As, from the wrecks around it cast, 

It finds support to breast the tide ; 
But thus to linger day by day, 

A prey to that foreboding sense 
Which gives a pang to each delay. 

And agonizes with suspense ; 



SUSPENSE. 
III. 

To feel an ever present dread 

Of some impending, nameless ill, 
Is keener than tlie shaft, when sped. 

Which makes the wounded bosom thrill. 
Then let me know the worst of fate. 

Though it may rend with pangs intense, 
For sure no pains were e'er so great 

As are the tortures of suspense. 

IV. 

And yet, the soul that trusts in God 

Can find a balm for every woe. 
Since His own hand upholds the rod, 

And mercy tempers every blow. 
O then, my soul, be strong in trust. 

Whatever fate He may dispense, — 
Although the swelling heart may burst, 

While agonizing in suspense. 

23* 



269 



270 



THANATOS. 



All nature is dying, 

Ever dies, 
To the grave all are hieing 

Where the Death Angel flies. 
At the rush of his wings 

The strongest grow pale, 
The life-giving springs 

All suddenly fail ; 
The high and the lowly, 

The king on the throne. 
The vile and the holy. 

He claims as his own. 
All nature is dying, 

Ever dies ; 
To the grave all are hieing, 

Where the Death Angel flies. 



THAKATOS. 271 

II. 

All bloom but to wither, 

Wither all ; 
To dust they go thither, 

As the Autumn leaves faU. 
Ah, will no care avail, 

No wisdom nor craft, 
When Death shall assail. 

To ward off his shaft ? 
Ah no ! all is vain, 

No refuge will hide ; 
His steel Death will stain 

In the heart-flowing tide. 
All nature is dying. 

Ever dies ; 
To the grave all are hieino-. 

Where the Death Angel flies. 

in. 

A maiden was kneeling, 

A fair maid ; 
With the heart's deepest feeling 

Her vows had been said. 
From the altar she rose. 

With D, blush on her cheek. 
While the heart with love glows, 

Too blissful to speak. 



272 THANATOS. 



But, ere she had felt 

On her lips his warm breath, 
Who beside her had knelt. 

Her bridegroom was Death ! 
All nature is dying, 
Ever dies; 
To the grave all are hieing. 

Where the Death Angel flies. 

IV. 

When, pleasure's cup filling, 

A while yet. 
Their precious time killing. 

The social have met ; 
Wlien those joys most abound 

Which they fain would prolong. 
And the chorus swells round, 

As they join in the song, 
E'en then at the door 

The rude knock is heard, 
And cold evermore 

Is some bosom then stirred. 
All nature is dying, 

Ever dies ; 
To the grave all are hieing, 

Where the Death Angel flies. 



THANATOS. 273 

A mother sat smiling ; 

A sweet dove 
Her heart was beguiling 

With dreams of its love. 
As she gazed, it grew still, 

The lips ceased to sigh, 
The'iTi'Ow waxed chill. 

And the light left the eye ; 
Mid her heart-gushmg joy. 

She felt a cold breathy — 
Then she looked on her boy, 

And, behold, it was Death ! 
All nature is dying, 

Ever dies ; 
To the grave all are hieing. 

Where the Death Angel flies. 

VI. 

Though nature is dying, 

Ever dies ; 
To the grave all are hieing. 

Where the Death Angel flies ; 
Still, his advent ne'er dread, 

Brief, brief is his reign ; 
The appointed time sped, 

Death himself shall be slain. 



274 THANATOS. 



Then the dead who are " blessed *' 
Will Christ with him bring, 

And, the grave dispossessed. 

They will reign with their King, 

Wliere ne'er is known dying. 
No one dies ; 

To the grave none are hieing 
And no Death Angel flies ! 



275 



MY FATHER'S BIBLE. 

I. 
Flow on, sweet tears ! I needs must weep, 
For memory calls, from fountains deep. 
That treasured store of holy tears 
The heart hath garnered up for years. 
Now I behold 
My father's Bible ; his of yore, 

Than mines of gold 
He prized it more ! 

II. 
When grief oppressed, and crushing care. 
When death had nipped our loved and fair. 
And dark misfortune's heavy hand 
Was laid upon our little band. 
In painful loss. 
He then would read what Jesus bore 

Upon the Cross, — 
We wept no more ! 



276 MY father's bible. 

III. 
When Pleasure spread her flowery maze, 
To lure our feet from Virtue's ways ; 
And Sin, with fell, insidious art, 
Wove fatal spells to snare the heart, 
Tliis truthful page 
Our doubting footsteps onward bore 

Through every stage. 
Till doubt was o'er. 

lY. 

When called to seek the distant west, 
I craved a father's last behest ; 
Mid parting pangs we scarce could brook, 
" Take this," said he, " this blest old book. 
So long, long mine ; 
And, though I give no other store, 

'T is wealth divine, — 
Prize nothing more ! 

V. 

" Long hast thou known a father's care, 
Shared daily in his fervent prayer ; 
But now we part, — go, go, my child ! " 
He could no more, but wept, yet smiled. 



MY father's bible. 277 

As, pointin^till 
To this old book, when through the door 

I passed the sill, 
Crossed nevermore ! 

VI. 

Now moonbeams sleep upon his gi'ave, 
And p^isive willows o'er him wave ; 
No more from death's repose to wake, 
To plead with man for Jesus' sake 
His sins forbear. 
O, as I turn these pages o'er, 

Than jewels rare, 
I prize them more ! 

* VII. 

When death would fright the timid soul 
With coffin, shroud, the gi-ave's dark goal ; 
The parting hour, the djuig groan, 
A world unseen, a fate unknown ; 
A light from thee, 
Thou Book of books, doth round me pour, — 

Death's shadows flee, — 
Life evermore ! 
24 



278 MY father's bible. 

m. 

Thou *rt dingy now, and sadly worn, 
With crumpled leaves, and binding torn ; 
Thy value others may not see, 
But thou art priceless wealth to me ! 

Shrined in my heart 
Shall be thy memory and thy lore 

My soul's best chart. 



279 



THE FAY OF THE FALLS. 



When nature lies calmly in midnight repose, 
And the anvil no longer rings sharp on the ear, 

A melody floats from the wave as it flows, 
In murmurs of sweetness enchanting to hear. 

Hark ! distant and dying, that silvery voice calls, 

'T is the soft melting lay of the Fay of the falls. 



II. 

How plaintive its accents ! it murmurs in sighs. 
Till the air seems to thrill with its exquisite flow ; 

And the stars, looking pensively down from the skies, 
Li sympathy throb with a tremulous glow. 

List ! distant and dying, that voice ever calls, 

And sweet is the song of the Fay of the falls. 



280 THE FAY OP THE FALLS. 

III. 

It mourns for the days when along the green shore 

The thick-flowering spray drooped its bloom to the 
stream, 

And the red hunter's bark the bright wave floated o'er, 
Ere the hills had re-echoed the clangor of steam. 

Now, distant and dying, a voice sadly calls, 

'T is the tremulous tones of the Fay of the falls. 

IV. 

The shore is despoiled of its green forest bowers, 
Where nature's sweet warblers their carols awoke, 

And the wild deer have fled, for the dun city towers 
By the marge of the stream, with its din and its smoke. 

And, distant and dying, beyond its brown walls. 

At the noon of the night, sings the Fay of the falls. . 

V. 

The dark clouds of water-fowl come nevermore. 
To scream mid the rushes, in wildest of glee ; 

The dull notes of commerce have usurped the shore. 
While it bui'dens each wave going down to the sea. 

Now, distant and dying, that pensive voice calls. 

In the soft melting strains of the Fay of the falls. 



THE FAT OF THE FALLS. 281 



VI. 



Sing on, mournful spirit ! thy song shall ne'er cease, 
While the wave hurries on to its home in the main ; 

But ever, when earth is reposing m peace, 
Into night's listening ear pour thy soul-melting strain. 

And, as, distant and dying, we list to its calls, 

Our hearts shall respond to the Fay of the falls. 



24* 



282 



THE DEAF AND DUMB. 

I. 
1 DWELL within a voiceless world, 

Mysterious as deep ; 
My tongue can shape no form of speech, 

I can but laugh and weep. 
The touch may wake the sounding chords, 

And lips sweet music trill, — 
The mymc power I cannot feel, 

A void is round me still. 

II. 

The winged lightnings o'er me flash, 

The trembling nerve doth shake, 
The awful stillness on my ear 

The thunders may not break. 
And yet I know 't is God who speaks 

In each electric gleam ; ^ 

I love the music of His voice, 

I hear it when I dream. 



THE DEAF AND DUMB. 283 

III. 

When I a mother's name would call, 

Or hear its holy sound, 
My lips give forth no utterance, 

My ear is silence-bound. 
But O, that sweetest, dearest name 

My soul delights to hear ; 
Its melody oft thrills my heart, — 

I answer with a tear ! 

tv. 
Though, when she knelt at evening hour, 

No sound the stillness broke, 
I knew the language of her lips. 

It was her soul that spoke. 
And there were other voices, too, 

Commingled in that prayer ; 
I saw no forms, but O, I felt 

The Angels hovering there. 

V. 

When I the beauteous heavens behold. 

The star-gemmed milky way, 
And watch the flowers and bright-winged birds 

Upon the blooming spray ; 



284 THE DEAF AND DUMB. 

When beauty, fragrance fills the sense, 

O, then I long to hear, 
And know if music comes as sweet 

Unto the quickened ear. 

VI. 

Though on the ear and from the tongue 

No words of sweetness roll, 
The heart has its own melody, 

The music of the soul ; 
'T is like the far-off symphony 

The spirit hears alone, 
Swelling beyond the walls of time, 

Around Jehovah's throne. 

VII. 

There, on my spirit-quickened sense, 

Shall heavenly cadence thrill. 
My loosened tongue join in the strains 

Which powers celestial fill ; 
There, evermore with new delight 

Shall praise to him be given. 
Who, in a world of silence, tuned 

Both tongue and ear for heaven ! 



285 



I LOVE THE WIND. 

I. 

The Trind is out with merry rout, 

It revels wild and free, 
The forests swaying to and fro, 

Like billows of the sea. 
O, hear it at the casement, now, 

With rude and hoarse refrain ; 
'T is thus I love to hear the wind 

Make music on the pane. 

II. 
It mourns along the empty halls, 

Or mounts the winding stair. 
Goes rumbling through each garret room, 

And every cranny there ; 
Now down into the cellar dark, 

Then up the stair again. 
O, how I love the free Avild wind. 

Though rough and rude its strain. 



286 I LOVE THE WIND. 

III. 

It mounts the gable, twirls the vane, 

Then stoops with sudden drop, 
Around the dusty courtyard whirls, 

Like the spinning of a top ; 
Now glides along the portico. 

And slams the opened door. 
O, how I love this windy war, — 

There 's music in its roar. 

IV. 

Behold it toss the snow-flakes round. 

Ere to the ground they fall. 
In many a wild and merry bout, 

Then heap them 'gainst the wall; 
Or from the hooded tree-tops shake 

The hoary wreaths of snow. 
'T is thus I love the free wild wind, 

How rough so e'er it blow. 



m: 



IF YOU WILL ONLY THINK SO. 

I. 
Each one must take his chance in life, 

And wait for fortune's favors ; 
And, if it bring protracted strife, 

With unrequited labors, 
Ne'er yield a moment to despair, 

Nor let the spirit shrink so. 
No richer blessing, oft, than care. 

If you will only think so ! 

II. 
As fortune's wheel rolls on its way, 

Ne'er count the hours by sorrow, 
Since he who rides the top to-day, 

The bottom finds to-morrow. 
Ne'er let success depend on place, 

Nor yield whene'er you sink low j 
When lowest, you have won the race, 

If you will only think so ! 



288 IF YOU WILL OXLY THINK SO. 

in. 
Timidity is half defeat, 

Ere foeman is pursuing ; 
And, where success might be complete, 

Faint heart is all undoing. 
Ne'er charge it back on " cruel fate," 

When sorrow's cup you drink so ; 
The shortest road to ruin's gate 

Is only just to think so ! 

IV. 

What though your lot is hard to bear, 

With none to ease your labor ? 
Ne'er murmur that a lighter share 

Has fallen to your neighbor. 
The reasons never stop to ask. 

Why link is joined to link so ; 
And yours will be the lightest task, 

If you will only think so ! 

V. 

Remember, there can be no good 

In moping over troubles. 
For, bowing to despondent mood, 

The sorrow only doubles ; 



IP YOU WILL ONLY THINK SO. 289 

Then shake off care, and bravely on, 

Though you to ruin's brink go. 
And on its verge the gaol is won, 

If you will only think so < 
25 



290 



TO AN INFANT BOY. 

I. 
Room for a new-born love, 

Room in each parent breast ; 
Another snow-white dove 

Seeks for an ark of rest. 
A welcome, darling boy, 

Where love its light imparts, 
O, nestle as a joy 

Forever in our hearts. 

II. 

Mysterious visitant 

From yon celestial sphere, 
O say, why art thou sent 

For joy or sorrow here ? 
While now our spirits reel 

With strange deliciousness, 
We fear the joy we feel. 

It is not earthly bliss. 



TO AN INFANT BOY. 291 

III. 

Since to our raptured sight 

This radiant one was given, 
Our; hearts have felt delight, 

AU redolent of heaven ; 
But O, there comes a fear, 

He is not ours alone ; 
Heaven is his native sphere, 

And Heaven may claim its own ! 

IV. 

O, let the gentle love 

An earthly home imparts. 
Beguile thee, precious dove, 

To nestle in our hearts. 
Come to thy parent's breast, 

And be a constant joy : 
It is thy ark of rest. 

My brightseyed, chenib boy I 



HYMN FOR A NEW YEAR'S SABBATH. 
SCHOOL FESTIVAL. 

I. 

Others, vainly seeking pleasure, 

Meet to sip their rosy wine ; 
Here we find enduring treasure, 

Where we learn of things Divine, 
Years may fly, and cares o'ertake us, 

Hopes decay, and heart be riven. 
But our God will ne'er forsake us, 

Time is winging us to Heaven. 

II. 

Here we learn to love and cherish 

Friends who win the erring heart, 
Truths receive that never perish. 

Truths that grace and life impart. 
Tasting joys beyond conception, 

With each lesson truly given ; 
We escape the dark deception. 

In the radiant path to Heaven. 



A new-year's sabbath-school festival. 293 

IIT. 

Sacred are these friendly meetings, 

Sweet this interchange of love, 
For the lips now warm with greetings 

Guide our hearts to bliss above. 
While the sands of life are wasting, 

Be our hearts to Jesus given, 
In the pathway ever hasting, 

Upward to the gates of Heaven. 

IV. 

New Year's greetings have been spoken, 

Happy wishes breathed to-day ; 
Each received some cherished token, 

Friendship's gift to bear away. 
Now, O Lord, ere we shall sever, 

One more gift is freely given ; 
Q receive, and keep forever, 

Treasure up. our hearts in. Heaven. 

25^ 



294 



A SONG ABOUT SINGERS. 

I. 

The "Sinless Child"* perfection seeks, 

"With heart that ever yearns, 
Glowing, as did the burning bush, 

With fire that never burns. 



II. 
And truly hers should ever bear 

The " Salamander's " name, 
Fcr all her genius deigns to touch 

Lives evermore in flame. 

III. 
«Elfrida"t was a "Music-Box," 
And, while a flower shall bloom, 
Her own " "Wild Flowers " through all the year 
Will shed their rich perfume. 

*Mrs. E. 0. Smith. t:Mrs. F. S. Osgood. 



A SONG ABOUT SINGERS. 295 



IV. 

Her fancy soared on lightest wing, 

And revelled wild, and fi'ee, 
And gathered fresh the fairest flowers 

Of Love and Poesy. 

V. 

" Idisal," * in " a sad, sweet dream," 
Beholds her sought-for token ; 
But from the airy vision wakes. 
And finds her " Image Broken." 

VI. 

And now, like rude Idolater, 

When truth his chains has riven. 

She lays upon a holier shrine 
A holocaust to Heaven. 

VII. 

"Melodia"t sung — the "Butter-cup," 
The " Rainbow " brighter glowed. 
And every murmuring " Sea-shell's " voice 
In sweeter cadence flowed, 

* Miss Lynch. t Mrs. Welby. 



296 A SONG ABOUT smaERs. 



VIII. 

With heart as timid as the flower 

That first peeps out in spring, 
And yet so brimming full of song, 

She could not help but sing. 

IX. 

" Flora's Interpreter " * is still 

The genius of the " Book," 
Through which she sheds the " Light of Home " 

In every tasteful nook. 

X. 

Here trips a " Grace," t from Venus' train. 

In "Love and Daring" by. 
Yet "Dreams" and "Darkened Hours" oft seem 

To light and shade her eye. 

XI. 

And she who loves the moral Muse, f 

The matron of the choir, 
Still sings us songs of Home and Heaven, 

In strains that never tire. 

* Mrs. Hale. f Miss S. J. Clark. | Mrs. Sigoumey. 



A SONG- ABOUT SINGERS. 297 

XII. 

The " Sleeping Beauty " * chants her lay, 

The modest " Cinderella : " 
When once her worth is truly known, 

She '11 grace the proudest villa. 

XIII. 

*Once He who " spate as ne'er man spake," 

Whose speech ne'er yet beguiled, 
Declared that they are blessed who 
Are like unto a « Child." f 

XIV. 

And, " Child "-like, she doth aim to bless 

Her little kindred here, 
Nor does she scorn the love of those 

She'll love in yonder sphere. 

XV. 

With " Sun " and " Summer " in their smiles, 

Walk hand m hand the " Mays ; " X 
One leads about her graceful " Fawn," 

The other wreathes bouquets. 

^ Miss Whitman, t Miss Child. J CaroHne and Edith May. 



298 A SONa ABOUT SINGERS. 

XVI. 

The Western "Helva"* paints to life 

" Pictures of Memory," 
And twines the freshest "mountain flowers" 

In wreaths of Poesy. 

XVII. 

A " Light in Darkness " shines alway 

Amid life's dreary night, 
To gild the path the " sisters "f tread 

Up to the " gates of light." 

XVIII. 

And there are others in the choir, 
Whose brows the bays will twine ; 

For they are ^ith the " vision blest, 
And faculty divine." 

=^AHce Gary. t AUce and Phebe Caiy. 



THE END. 



H 13 89 ^ 



i 



I 







t ^^K^" 















<^V ^ « • 



'*: "^^0^ :i 






>\.V^'/-V".o^ ,t. 



.■="0. 


























*. '» . . • ^V "^vv *'7Vi' ,0^ ^ '" • • • aV 



V jP-nK V 



. -^o 



.-lo*, . 






V-'" 



^ .>V/.\ ^^^^^« ..^', ^Z ,^, -,^^, 



»• .^J-'^ 






.40, ., 



^°-^^. V 



•'/ <.»>" 



Ao^ .. 



.0' "V **Tr;''\^'fr'' ^o,. '*:^ 



y .sv, *- 









; '^o^ 



'bv- : 






«?fc . 













^ *« 

*" .•"•». "^ 



4°x. : 



f,^'j^.% 







^. A^ /^v^*» «,. ..« ♦*. 



* <»>' ^ ♦^^ 









;* -^^ ^o/% 



• K - *0' 



*.;v..**^»A--/^. .^v^i^'.^*^„ ./,>e 






• '^'--o^ :. 



'"^. 




HECKMAN |X| j |.- ^^ :1»: J^ 'J 





BINDERY INC. 
;«^ DEC 88 



u-..^ N. MANCHESTER, 
^^ INDIANA 46962 






<^^*'^/ 'o '. 



P^ .*1^^. ^c 






« .1 i^ 



